Someone To Want Me
by JustTwisted
Summary: *COMPLETED* Thought Buffy was an uncharacteristically *wimpy* blub-fest post-Riley break-up? I give you instead, dark, angsty despair, a saviour in the form of Spike, and a shocking accident that makes her face what it truly means to be the Slayer.
1. Someone to want me

Set: After Buffy's returned home from watching Riley fly away with the army guys.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Because I wouldn't have followed up an incredibly wonderful angsty ep like 'Into the woods' with a Buffy who blubbers lines like " theirs is a beautiful love!". Joss, you rock, but man, the opportunities you missed ;-)

Author's Note : Just after seeing 'into the woods' and so AU after that . I had, to because I'm sorry, as funny as 'Triangle' was in many respects, Buffy's behaviour was utterly wimpish. I like to take a darker angle on  the whole Riley betrayal thing.

 Erm, of course I realised that Buffy has trouble driving, but it didn't really sink in that she hadn't ever got her license till 'Tabula Rasa', which needless to say, was way after I wrote this. So, y'know, ignore that little discrepancy.

The song that's used for the dance is'nothing sweet' by the oh-so-gifted 'Sundays'(remember 'wild horses' at the prom?)- and it's so beautiful and slow…check their music out.

________________________________________________

 I have to get away from that bad boy thing. There's no good there...But I can't help thinking — isn't that where the fire comes from? Can a nice, safe relationship be that intense? I know it's nuts, but.. part of me believes that real love and passion have to go hand in hand with pain and fighting   {Buffy-something Blue}

_Do you think that I spent the last year with you because you had super powers? If that's what I wanted, then I'd be dating Spike. {Buffy to Riley-Out of my mind}_

_Love isn't brains, children, it's blood...  blood screaming inside you to work its will.  *I* may be love's bitch, but at least *I'm* man enough to admit it   {Spike- Lovers' Walk}._

 Buffy sat on the stairs, all alone in the darkened house. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but she was past thinking now. The 'why's' and 'what if's' were no longer an issue. Riley had left her. And it was her fault. Maybe Xander was right- maybe he had been The One, and she had just never seen it.

 But after the self-blame came the self-pity. She had only ever felt strongly about three guys. Angel had left her, because he couldn't see a future. Parker…well Parker had certainly never wanted a future. And Riley…she really thought Riley was ..dependable Sure she hadn't exactly thought about growing old together, but he had been there. He had been a boyfriend. But she hadn't been enough for him. Perhaps this is why all other Slayers had worked alone.

   Loneliness. That scared her sometimes more than the demons, and the monsters. It was dealing with them, and ordinary life alone which held the most dread. 

   So here she was. Alone again. Alone trying to save the world for goodness' sake. Her mother had almost died, her sister wasn't even her sister, yet another arch-enemy had risen up…and this was all she had to look forward to .

 The tears had stopped flowing a while ago, but she shrugged away more sobs now, as she thought grimly, how Spike had been right. They did just keep coming…and her life was nothing but a countdown to the day that she had  nothing left to live for.

Spike…

She frowned. What the hell was he…With everything that'd had been going on lately she hadn't had lot of time to think about much, except what had to be done to get through each day. Perhaps that had been why she hadn't seen this thing coming with Riley…

 She shrugged that thought away. 

 Why had Spike come to tell her about Riley? He..he hadn't exactly rubbed it n, delighted in her pain .. "_I just thought you should know…"_

  And there had been other things too- things she'd never really had time to connect before, but the strange sense of perspective that comes with fatigue and the wee small hours was surfacing. The night of the trance, when she'd seen that Dawn didn't belong – the cigarettes….he'd been waiting outside her house. And then there was that night her mom came home from the hospital and he'd been prowling around in the basement- hadn't he had photographs of her? Woah, she had completely forgotten about that what with ….the fight. He had helped her. He could have let her be killed- but she remembered clearly now_._

_"Buffy" he called, she had looked up  and met his gaze, one equal to another, he had thrown the knife to her, and she stabbed the demon over and over….and then. ..he had offered her his hand, and helped her up._

 That wasn't right…he had helped her, he had held her hand for a fraction of a second….but this was Spike- helping a ***slayer ***.

" _Can I do anything to help?" _ That night. That night she had needed someone more than ever before- when she had felt so alone, and so helpless….he had turned up. She remembered that kind voice, how he had sat down, patted her on the back, listened to her problems. God, she must have been so out of it then, why hadn't she thought about it? All she remembered was letting it all out, just being overwhelmed with worry for her mom- she hadn't even thought about who was sitting by her, listening to her..actually * **listening*** to her…

 She came back to the silent house, and in the shadows she hugged her jacket around her, and sniffed away her tears. She couldn't deal with-.with whatever this was right now. She was so ***tired ***, just mentally exhausted. She stood up and walked up the stairs slowly. She just needed to sleep.

-------------------------

   She couldn't sleep. She just lay in bed staring at the spot where Riley had laid this time last night. It had seemed so perfect…and what, was he just thinking about when he could get away to his...whatever she was…?

Buffy was crying before she even knew it. Was she that unsatisfying? That someone like Riley, Mr Joe Normal, had to resort to getting his kicks from vampire whores?

 All alone in the house she cried and cried until there was nothing left in her, except complete despair. 

---------------------

   The backdoor of the Summers' house opened hesitantly, and with the painful creaking that shows someone is trying to be as quiet as possible. That someone made their way through the house, listening carefully for any sound…especially one that might indicate that she had taken _him _back after all.  The house was quiet, dark….God it had been a while since he'd had this;normal things. He looked around…sitting at a dining room table, looking at pictures on a wall, sodding well curling up on a sofa with someone. This was stupid, human stuff. He didn't want it. But this was the world she came from…and that suddenly made it a little less of a joke…

  He made his way up the stairs, taking care to tread over the third step- that had creaked last time. Funny, the little details you notice in the strange, pivotal moments in life. What the hell was he doing here? He paused a moment…

  Sod it. He'd said it before and he'll say it again, he may be love's bitch but he's man enough to admit it.  Her door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open gently and saw -thank god- she was alone..

  But his triumphant smile faded when he saw her face. She was frowning in her slumber…puffy eyes and the dried tears on her face told him she must have cried herself to sleep..and he felt a faint pang of regret when he realised he had caused her this grief- the same pang he had felt in that alley, after he'd shown her what lover-boy was up to…she had looked at him with anything but appreciation.

   He'd blown it…not that he'd had any chance in the first place.

  And that certainty tore at his heart more than when he had just watched her, unacknowledged from afar. A brief sound, perhaps the choking back of a sigh, a cry of frustration, a sob…..but the shadows hid his face well. He turned to go, but before he did he glanced back at her. The Slayer she might be, but now she looked just like a child. A lost little girl who'd grown up too fast. He knew all about that. God he knew.

 "I'm sorry" he whispered, and with a sigh he made his way along the corridor and back down the stairs.

 Unseen in the shadows, the lost girl slowly opened her eyes, frowning in disbelief at what she'd heard.

Buffy didn't pause as she approached the Magic Box, but determinedly opened the door and strode in forcefully, making the gang look up. They were all looking a little more anxious than usual, and from Giles' poise, and Tara's nervous looks, she gathered she'd just interrupted them talking about her.

     She avoided meeting Xander's gaze. After a beat Willow stepped forward with a nervous smile, 

 "Hey there, Buffy. Ah, how's it going there…with that, that new look there…" She frowned slightly at the slightly slutty, definite evening wear, certainly eye-catching outfit for 11 in the morning.

 She  quickly followed up with,.

 "It-it's a good look, I mean, with the leather, and, and have you and Riley broken up?"

Buffy now shot a disappointing look at Xander.

 "Thanks for that whole privacy thing." She said, a little too harshly, making everyone give those little glances at each other.

 Giles stepped forward, taking his glasses off slowly as he did,

 "Buffy, we couldn't but notice, you're, ah-"he gave a nervous little smile, "abnormal behaviour lately…but, you could have told us if things with Riley were so bad-"

 "- did you kick him off to central America?"

 Anya looked around at the despairing looks from everyone.

 "What-that was what we all wanted to know, right? Right?" she sighed in exasperation at the lack of support.

 Buffy's expression was like stone.

 "He's gone." _God, how many times will I have to say that in my life?_ "And what with this stuff with my mom, and- "she gave a meaningful look at Giles, -"and all the otherworldly stuff lately"she looked back at the rest with a determined look, her arms crossed in front of her.

 "…I need a break. Not a running-away-from–sunnydale break, but…some space. I need some space. So ….leave me alone for a little while okay?" She turned away quickly before she had to register the shocked looks on her friends' faces.

 She walked a little way down the street, feeling both defiant and ashamed at the looks she got from some of the guys she passed by. After a little while  the running feet she'd heard behind her caught up, and Willow was in front of her.

  She sighed "will, I-"

"I know.." said her friend breathlessly, "I hear ya…I'm not saying I understand you or anything but…but I heard what you said."

 Buffy looked up at her pleadingly.

 "Then please, just give me some space okay?"  
Willow frowned at her.

 "But, Buffy …I really don't think you should be alone right now. I- I mean, normally the, the best friend sob session is involved, and, and eating of ice-cream, and well, even on occasion the burning of all his  worldly possessions, but –"

 "But this isn't a normal break-up Will." _It never is with me_. " I don't need the sob session, I need to get on with my life."

 Willow frowned again, but then decided to clutch at straws.

 "well, well Okay then, if that's how you want to play it…Ooh, hey, there's a party on campus tonight, at ,uh Rudy's, Rudy Wilson's…and y'know, I wasn't going to go what with the drinking and well, criminal damage that comes with Rudy Wilson, but hey, if you just want to-"

 Buffy looked at her.

 "No, no it's okay, I'll be fine tonight." She managed a smile, "I ***will ***…y'know, go spend time with Tara, I'll have a quiet night in".

-------------

   The party was wild. Really wild. Normal kids, having fun. This was what she needed. 

"hey Bunny!"

the guy next to her struggled to be heard over the music. Buffy smiled, perhaps a little too teasingly for a sober Slayer...

 "*Buffy*. With an 'F'."

 The cute guy grinned, .

 "Well, Buffy with an 'F'…I think its about time for a refill."

Buffy held up her own glass, still half full with beer. She thought a second, that smiled seductively at him, as she downed the rest in one go, and handed him the glass.

"You know I think you're right".

 He grinned, and turned to the table behind him to get her refill.

 He glanced at her outfit from the corner of his eye…he just knew he was gonna get lucky tonight. 

When he turned back to her, he found she was talking to another guy.

 Buffy turned back to him.

 "Oh, sorry, Dave-" she took her beer from him, "it was Dave right? This.." she turned back  to the guy ogling her, "is….well, I'm sorry, I didn't actually catch your name?"

 Dave caught the other fella's ye.

 " Well, what a small world…this is Evan..he's a good friend of mine." He and Evan grinned at each other. Buffy looked at both of them, then downed another beer in one go again, as the guys watched with increasing amusement.

 She turned and put the glass down, then took both their arms.

 " Well…isn't this gonna be fun?"

"So you're from England?"

 Spike frowned as the throng of students blocked his view of the chatting threesome on the other side of the room. His attention was momentarily drawn back to the brunette next to him.

 "What?" 

She smiled.

 "I said…so you're from England?"

He rolled his eyes, and turned back to look for Buffy.

 "Yeah"

The girl laughed.

 "God, it's just impossible to have a decent conversation in here isn't it? Hey do you…y'know…wanna go someplace quieter?" He followed her glance to the stairs in the corner…

 "yes" he said determinedly, "yes I do " he turned back to her , "just not with you, love". The brunette looked at him with disdain, while he pushed his way through the crowd, all the while trying to catch another glance of the blonde he had seen ascending the stairs with a guy on either arm….

 By the time he got upstairs, the hall was clear- there were about a dozen rooms, all with closed doors. He started as a couple came out of the one nearest to him…they looked at him momentarily and laughed drunkenlyas they made their way back to the party. He stopped, and sniffed…._I guess that sweater smelling payed off after all_ he thought,, as made his way to the end door, and kicked it open.

  He was taken aback slightly, as were the three occupants of the room…the two guys sidling up to Buffy on the bed jumped up in anger.

 Dave turned to the intruder, his shirt loose,

 "hey man, what the fu-" he yelled as Spike punched him full in the face, before reeling back in pain the next minute .

 Buffy lept up angrily, and not too steadily, pulling her clothes straight self-consciously

 "Spike what the hell are you doing here?!" she yelled bitterly.

 Evan looked hesitantly at the both, before grabbing the cursing Dave up from the floor,

 " I'm sorry man, we-we didn't know she was involved, we're just…" he gave up and hurried out of the room dragging his partner in crime with him. Spike watched them go with distaste, and seeing a few faces peeking out into the corridor in curiosity, he angrily slammed the door shut.

 There was a stifling silence in the unfamiliar room as Spike stared down at Buffy, picking up her shoes and purse from the floor, trying to regain a little dignity. She looked at him enraged.

 "What the hell are you doing here huh? This is my business, you've got no right-" she chocked back a sob, "-no right to…"

  She collapsed onto the bed sobbing with shame, anger, and self-loathing.

 Spiked looked at her with real concern.

 "Can you see yourself? You're sitting there, completely out of it - not to mention dressed up like a tart- about to engage in a little ménage a trios with two losers like that?!"

 She looked up at him with all the hate gone now, just sadness, and tears running down her cheeks. His face softened. He'd seen that look before -that night he went to kill her on the porch.

 He lowered his voice.

 "I'm sorry. I'm sorry…it's just-" he sat down next to her and took her arm without even thinking about it.

 "Just what are you doing to yourself? Giving in? Is that it? "  
 She put her head in her hands, which were shaking as she threaded her fingers through her hair.

 "I-I just…" 

 She looked up at him.Then in a small but earnest voice she said,

 "I just wanted someone to want me." She broke down again into half crying, half anger and shame at her state.

 Spike gave a little smile, and reached out to her chin, forcing her to look back up at him.

 "Look at you" he said quietly. "I mean, you're beautiful, you…you just glow with energy and this, this strength" AS he gazed at her face, he failed to see the strange look on her face at his words… He hooked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, and spoke in a daydreaming half-whisper,

  "Who wouldn't want you?" When he met her gaze she was looking at him with such shock and confusion…and he knew. He knew he'd gone too far. That was it, she knew now, and he couldn't take it back. He shifted his gaze uncomfortably in the face of her stare, and got up, pulling his hands away from her face and arm roughly as he started to walk out.

 He glanced back at her, still staring incomprehensibly at the spot where he'd been sitting.

 He started to speak, but found he didn't know what to say. He opened the door and walked out.

   Buffy sat still for a moment. She looked around the bedroom, feeling sick with drink, and disgust at what she had been about to do, and confusion at what she'd just felt towards her unlikely saviour. She got up slowly, paused, then ran towards the nearest wastebasket and wretched, fresh tears coming as she did..

The next day… 

 She was here. Slightly silhouetted in the sunlight, before she closed the door behind her. Spike got up from his chair nervously, putting down his bottle on the floor. She looked around at the other discarded bottles in the crypt.

 He noticed and couldn't believe that he felt slightly embarrassed. Buffy looked nervous, as if she didn't know quite why she was here….she was subconsciously fiddling with her long sleeves - today, 'revealing' was not on the agenda, as if to make up for her behaviour yesterday.

  He couldn't but notice the shadows under her eyes.

 They stood for a second, each unsure why she was here. 

 Avoiding each others eyes, Spike eventually coughed nervously, then came up with;

 "You , uh, want to sit down?"

 She blinked, as if not quite expecting this.

 "No, I'm fine…thankyou."  
 He shrugged hesitantly.

 "No probs."

 "No, I mean-" he looked up at her, as she said quietly, and with an uncertain look on her face,  "I mean thank you…for last night."

A pause.

  "You're welcome" he said after a moment, in that same , well, *human * voice that he had used that night her mom said she was going into hospital. Soft, gentle, betraying his emotions.

 Buffy looked at him with incomprehension.

 "What..what were you doing there? At the party?" 

 She saw him start to get all defensive, and added, "apart from, well, stopping me doing something I'd probably regret for the rest of my life." She tried to say it light-heartedly, but she knew it was the truth. She decided to just get it out.

 "Why were ***you *** there Spike? You of all people? I need to know."

  Spike started to act all aggressive, and was thinking of a quick excuse, but then he caught her eye. She wanted the truth.

 He gave in.

"I followed you" he said as if admitting to some shameful secret…which he was. All the while he was thinking _what the hell am I doing_. But love was blood, and that can't be denied.

  "I was, well " he laughed, "Bloody hell, I was worried, after the whole Riley thing…I, I guess I gave you more of a shock than I thought….I mean, 'daggers' might describe that look you gave me outside that place let me tell you-"

 he was starting to ramble and he knew it. 

"You were at my house last night."

Her words stopped him, and his reaction confirmed her suspicions.

There was no hiding now. He sagged into his chair, muttering with a  grim smile "Faker."

"Spike what is going on?"

 He leant down to pick up his booze again, and sat back up taking a swig.

 "I think you know."

 Buffy strode quickly across to him, grabbed him by the shirt and hurled him against the wall angrily.

 "What is this Spike? Some twisted little new game of yours? Is that it…have you just been trying to get to me when I was weak, to what- make me trust you or something, so you can turn around and get me killed?!"

 "No, I-"

 "Tell me the truth!" she yelled and shoved him back again. But this time he cried out with real pain…she looked down at her hand on his chest…and suspicious, pressed harder on that spot over his heart. He cringed in pain again.

   She stepped back confused.

 "Someone staked you?

  Spike clutched his chest.

 "Farmer Finn took a shot with a fake stake…thought it was a bloody riot I'm sure."

 Buffy watched him sit back down and take another swig for the pain.

 "Why?"

 "Because I let his big ol' dark secret out, that's why…well, that and…" his voice faded away.

 "And what?"

 Spike looked her in the eyes.

 "I guess he saw me as competition. It's like I said last night love… you're not as unwanted as you think."

 She couldn't handle this. She turned quickly to leave,  but as she reached for the door, he was there slamming it shut.

 She wouldn't look at him though as he said,

 "Just hear me out. This isn't no bloody trick, or some scheme to bring down the Slayer alright? By God I wish it were, you have no idea how much…but it isn't. I-"

 He couldn't say it. To say it would mean he really was nothing now, a bloody cripple lovestruck over the Slayer….

 She glanced at him quickly, then reached for the door again. He took his weight off it this time, and let her go.

   **-------------------**

     Buffy sat in the living room curled up with a cushion, not really watching TV.

 She was dimly aware that Dawn was on the phone. A couple of nights ago she had found perfect contentment in this very room, the candles had been lit, and it had just been her and Riley. But she knew now that they hadn't been out of the woods then…because in the back of his mind all the time had been the anticipation for his next visit to that godawful place. She felt sick to the stomach just thinking about it. But now she realised it had never actually stopped…all this stuff lately, had been constantly grinding her down. And she just wanted things to be back for normal. But she knew all to well that normal never lasted long in the life of a Slayer.

    So wrapped up in her own thoughts was she, that she didn't notice when her sister came back into the room.

  Dawn started to speak, but then glanced at the TV, and back to her sister.

 " Uh, Buffy, you know you're watching the weather channel right?"

 Buffy came out of her reverie.

 "Oh right, well, metereology can be interesting."

 Dawn gave her 'sisters are so weird' look.

 "Yeah, whatever, can I go over to Shona's?"

 Buffy sighed.

 "Dawn, I don't want you going out late, I've told you before."

 Dawn folded her arms defiantly.

 "No you told me you don't want me hanging around with short people. And Shona's very tall for her age. "

 The sisters shared a look, and the younger sibling knew she could get her way.

 "Come on Buffy, I haven't seen my friends in ages what with mom being sick, and hey,you went out last night."

 The whining automatically triggered a 'that was different' response, but then Buffy stopped.

 No it wasn't- she had just wanted to let go. Her sister deserved a little r 'n' r too.

 She gave in. 

" Alright, so long as I drive you."

 As Dawn started reaching for her jacket she muttered

 "And that makes it safer how?"

 "I heard that."

  As Buffy watched her sister enter her friend's house, she couldn't but feel envy for her lack of concerns…there she was just greeting her friends, already laughing and joking. She has no idea of the danger she's in. She has no responsibilities. She's just a child.

  As the door closed behind them, Buffy felt shut out again...alone in the night. Sighing she re-started the car , and pulled out into the road, not without some painful-sounding gear-shifting. As she came to a crossroads she realised she wasn't that far away from the Bronze..she hadn't been there since…well since that night with Spike, when he'd made her confront something dark within herself. Something she'd never told Giles…_part of me wants to let go.._

 She shrugged that memory away – there were better ones. She remembered the simpler days when it was just the scoobies hanging out there. She had thought she had a rough deal then…she'd just had no idea of how complicated life could get.

   She found herself making the turn for the Bronze nonetheless. The coffee shop would be closed by now, and the way she was feeling she was in desperate need of either caffeine or sleep…and she just didn't want to go home right now. Alone.

 It was busy tonight…the band was bringing in a lot of fans. Buffy walked among the high-school students…_geez was I ever that young?_ Well, the java called.

 She sat down on a free stool at the counter and ordered her coffee.

While she sat she just listened to the music and the people around her…her eye caught a group of senior guys all standing round an obviously popular girl, who was just basking in their attention.

 "Witness Cordelia 2. The Sequel." She muttered under her breath.

The bartender guy passed her drink.

"Cheer up. Might never happen."

 This took a few seconds to register.

 "Oh" she blushed slightly. "That's the problem, it already has."

 He smiled.

 "Well then, things can only get better."

 He looked behind her as a guy's voice was heard cursing.

 "Certainly seems a lucky night for some."

 Buffy glanced up as he nodded to the scene behind her. She looked around to see through the crowd a couple of guys at the pool table, counting out some money …and not seeming too happy about their defeat.

  She gave a half hearted smile, and was turning back to her drink when she got _that_ feeling. She spun around, and sure enough…

   She saw them handing their money to the victor. The crowds parted slightly as she heard that British accent.

 "Thanks mate. No hard feelings."

"Yeah right" the loser muttered and he and his friends walked away disappointed.  She saw a hand put the money in the inner pocket of his duster.

 And then Spike looked around, a little lost looking. Nobody else was going to play after seeing that defeat. He sighed, picked up his bottle of beer that had been resting on the table, and began walking towards the bar. She spun round and tried to sink in her seat, but she knew he'd seen her.  

 There was a pause where Spike tried to decided what to do. But what the hell, the sight of her had just sobered him up.

 He took a seat next to her, noticing her uneasiness at this.

 "So I ask myself...coincidence, or have you got the old stalking deal going for you?"  
"I thought that was your job." She said bitterly.

 Spike gave a look that said plainly 'owch'.

"right then. Well, I guess I'll go relocate, seeing as you're not getting up too much mischief…although they do say caffeine'll kill you."He muttered.

 He got up gruffly and started moving away through the crowds.

 She sat there for a moment, looking up suddenly when the bartender asked,

"bad break up huh?"

Her eyes went wide.

"No! No, we're not…

The guy gave a faint smile

 "Sure, 'just friends' right? Pretty issue-filled friendship you got there."

She looked up at him briefly, then got up.

 "Excuse me".

 The bartender watched with a sad smile as she hurried off across the room.

 "Damn lucky guy." He muttered.

 Spike was standing  by the dancefloor, leaning against a post and drowning his sorrows.

 She appeared in front of him, and she saw the surprised look on his face.

She had to raise her voice to be heard above the music.

"So this might not be a trick. But that just means its some twisted little obsession of yours that I really *don't * get, and quite frankly don't want any part of."

 There was anger and hurt in his eyes.

 "Go ahead and tell me what you really think." He yelled back above the applause as the song ended.

  She started to speak, but lowered her voice as the band started a slower, quieter song. She stood close to him and looked him full in the eyes.

 "you're sick spike..you might be helpless now but you are a killer, a soulless killer, and the thought of you and me together _disgusts _me."

 She stared fiercely at him, and he stared just as fiercely back. Then he said;

"Do you want to dance?"

 His words threw her.

"what?"

  "When you're done insulting me that is…dance with me…" still not getting through he nodded towards the dancefloor, "Over there." He rolled his eyes. "Like now."

 She took a step back throwing her hands up in disbelief.

 "I can't _believe _you."

 "And I can't help noticing that wasn't a 'no'." he retorted quickly.

 She looked up in shock, and before she knew it he had grabbed her hand and was leading her out on the dance floor. 

"Spike, I'm not-' she warned, but he pulled her close suddenly, and leaning into her ear whispered

"Shut up and dance".

…and she did..before she knew it, the slow sorrowful number was the only sound…and she wasn't even thinking about what she was doing or why…he shock of her situation made her powerless to question it…and it was just her and someone holding her, with cold cold hands, swaying to the music. It was just too surreal.
    
    _In a crowd naked_
    
    _with no words to explain_
    
    _in a car braking_
    
    _glass cracks as I freeze the frame_
    
    They danced without looking at each other, just standing close, chest to chest. The fact that only one of their hearts was beating wasn't only noticed by Buffy…this was whole new territory for the vampire.
    
     The music was slow, soothing in the hell of the past few weeks. The atmosphere was thick , intimate but not tense…just the singers voice reaching through the bodies of all the couples present.
    
     __
    
    _and keep falling away_
    
    _keep falling away while I watch myself and pray_
    
    _keep falling from view what a mind puts a body through_
    
    _and down on the ground _
    
    _on with this dare_
    
      Buffy looked up slowly, uncertainly into her partners face. He looked so much more real, more human. And he wanted to be here with her. He looked back at her and she could see he was as uncertain in this as she was…but still neither one pulled away.
    
     "Spike-" she started, but he put an almost shaking finger to her lips.
    
     "Don't think. I'm not."
    
    And he pulled her close again, and  her face turned, from being contorted with confusion and struggling emotions, to contentment….content just to be held, and to sway to the music. She closed her eyes and leant her head on his shoulder.
    
     And Spike was in such ecstasy, it hurt.
    
    _and keep falling away_
    
    _keep falling away while I watch myself and pray_
    
    _keep falling from view what a mind puts a body through_
    
    _and down on the ground _
    
    _on with this dare_
    
    When the song finished it was too soon, and yet at the same time not soon enough for both of them. As the dancers around them bust into generous applause, the unlikely partners just stood still.
    
     Still holding her Spike said in a chokingly sad voice.
    
     "Song's over. "
    
     Buffy opened her eyes. In a turmoil of emotions she half-whispered,
    
    "Is it?"
    
     She looked up and pulled herself back. The start of a more upbeat number took away any silence there might have been, and for a fraction of a second they stood a little way apart, but still holding hands. When she realised this, Buffy looked down, and drew her fingers away from his cold ones.
    
       "I can't do this". She whispered hoarsely.
    
        He looked into her eyes, locked into a look of desperate hopelessness.
    
     "I know." He said. And he did. 
    
    She looked at him strangely. To her he looked now as fragile and despairing as any human.
    
     She turned, and walked away through the dancing couples, leaving behind a solitary figure, looking up to the ceiling as if blinking back tears.


	2. Hooked on a feeling

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  Joyce and Giles not mine cuz I sure as hell wouldn't want them – too much hassle trying to keep 'em away from police cars.shudderDemon guys are mine tho', all mine. I use them to do my chores y'know…tidy my room, wash the dishes, shift the consciousness' of my friends around for the greater good, that kinda thing.

Summary for this and following chapters: Just as Buffy realises how much she needs the type of contact with Spike that she had at the party and at the Bronze, the two get caught up in a spell which gives them a totally new perspective of each other's worlds, but the sacrifices needed will push their relationship to the brink.

Note: The plot of the following chapters (as yes, there will be more)was originally going to be  a separate piece, but  the feedback after the first posting of 'Someone to need me' was so positive, I decided to continue it on. Just in case you wondered why the slight change in direction.

This takes place approx four/five days after Chap 1, which would be Triangle week- admittedly ignoring that, due to my protest at Buffy's behaviour in it etc.etc.

_"For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart._

_ It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul."   
__-Judy Garland___

"The doctors say I can go home tomorrow". Joyce's happiness couldn't be hidden, even by her exhaustion. Giles, sitting by her hospital bed smiled, relieved. 

"That's wonderful news."

" And long-awaited. I swear, I'll never be so happy to give up 24-hr full maid service. The novelty wears off after a few days of them bringing you nothing but jello."  

Giles laughed,"I'm sure Buffy and Dawn will still volunteer their services as soon as you get back. And of course, we're all here if there's anything you need." She waved away his concern. "You've been too wonderful already. Cancelling your trip to England, that was too much."

Giles gave a hesitant smile. The truth was, that until a few days ago Buffy had been urging him to go, for Dawn's sake. The more information they got on Glory the better. But then, after Riley's sudden departure, and a day of her defiant, self-sufficient behaviour which though strange, still seemed to indicate that the Summers could manage without him, things changed. 

  Buffy suddenly became very quiet.  She was spending more time on her own, with her friends looking after Dawn every night while she went patrolling alone. Dawn didn't seem to mind, having fun at Willow and Tara's, or Xander and Anya's, and all were so eager to help that they often let Dawn stay the night, so that Buffy had more freedom to patrol when and where she liked.

    But that meant Buffy was spending every night wandering the streets, or sleeping in a deserted house. She had not discussed her thoughts or feelings for days, but merely listened to others' conversations, offering a vague comment or a small smile occasionally. Giles was worried. So worried that he had cancelled his trip. Buffy had thanked him, and said nothing else about it. Not one objection.

 And why hadn't she protested? Buffy knew that the trip to the Watcher's Council could have given new information to help the fight against Glory. That was the point. She didn't want more information right now. Life was complicated enough as it was. She was content to live in ignorance at the moment on the Slayage front.

  In all her years as the Slayer, Buffy had done two things when life got tough. Most of the time she had increased her committal to her duties, channelling all her energies into finding the bad guy and killing it. That took her mind of her personal life, and gave her a chance to vent her anger and frustration. That pattern had only been broken twice. After  'killing' Angel, she had run away, hidden away from her duties and the world for months, while still trying to escape from her own thoughts.

  And now, once more, she only wanted to be on her own. Not to think ,exactly, about her problems. Just to get away from the pressure of having to work, having to get some energy together to fight the evil, go to school, do the housework. She just wanted to curl up in her room, and sit in uninterrupted solitude and peace. 

   An onlooker might notice that patrolling every night doesn't exactly come into this category. It didn't, and she knew that, which is why she had stopped. Patrolling was just her excuse for getting Dawn off her hands. Some part of her recognised that this was wrong in so many ways, but she honestly didn't care at the moment.

    When the heart is confused, and in pain, it overrides all other immediate concerns, no matter how important. It cuts to the core of your being, and is always there, on the edge of your thoughts, that dull aching pain that begs to be acknowledged. It wears you down.

If you give in to it, you become so introspective that everything else loses its importance. 

This is what had happened to this fragile, twenty-year-old girl.

   Slayer duties, Dawn, her mom, they were all contributing factors. But Riley's betrayal had been the fatal blow. She felt that she had been so unsatisfying, both emotionally and sexually, to him, that he had to get his kicks from that repellent place. The she had let him go. And then that party…

…she felt dirty and nauseous when she thought about it. Not since Parker had she felt so confused about love and sex. At a time when all she wanted to do was be held by strong arms, comforting her and telling her how it was all going to be okay, that she didn't have to deal with the world on her own, she felt her loneliness keenly. And she believed she'd brought it all on herself. She must have done something to loose four boyfriends, two of which she had needed with all her being.

  Now she lay on her bed again in the dark. She had been in this position since before sunset, after she had left Dawn at Xander's, so that she could 'patrol'. She'd just sat here, letting the world grow dark, a mug of coffee, still in her hands, long ago gone cold. These had all been the thoughts going around her head. 

   And then came the feeling that she kept returning to, on these long solitary nights. It was always there, but mostly she could ward it off, even forget about it for long periods because it was so  repulsive – no, that wasn't the right word. It was just….unexpected. And different. Very, very different. Now, when for a brief moment she felt the chill of a draft blowing through the half-open window, it came again.

   It was the memory of Spike's hold on her – firstly from the party. His firm, yet tender hold of her arm, and his voice by her ear, as he sat next to her in all her shame and pity. And just when she tried to dismiss those things as mere gestures, momentary meaningless acts, she remembered how he had brushed a stray lock of hair away from her tear-filled face.  An act of such kindness that it had caused of pang of something in her, more than appreciation, for this creature that had changed so much recently.

   Sitting in the chilled darkness she recognised now why she had let him lead her out onto the dance-floor at the Bronze the next night. It wasn't just shock, or surprise, being off-guard. It had been, deep down, unacknowledged before now, the desperate longing to have him hold her again.  

  Thinking this Buffy realised in the detached part of our mind that guides and checks our trains of thought, that if she stepped back form this memory now, repelling it in disgust she would forever be in denial. _No more running_. Sheclosed her eyes and tried to bring back the memory.

  _When he had  taken her hand, so firmly, even with that hint of aggression that she could still barely admit to liking, and led her out onto the floor, some part of her  was crying in gratitude. She had given into that when he had taken her in his arms and held her close, swaying to the music oh-so-slightly. She had been held in strong arms, supported by someone who took the weight of the world from her shoulders, and gave her peace._

_   But when the music stopped, she had forgotten that. Reality had come crashing down around her, painful in its bitter truths.She had forgotten the contentment._

Until now.

Her eyes opened, and slowly, without mental determination, only fuelled by a yearning for this feeling she had caught a glimpse of, she got off the bed, and walked towards the door. 

She couldn't let this one go.

--------------------------------

Spike walked slowly through the cemetery, his boots crushing the grass underfoot. Some of the older demons could go on and on about prowling the night, evil feeling comfortable to stalk the shadows yada yada yada. Spike knew that the night was no friend to him; it would always be too still, too cold and dank  and dead. There wasn't even the appeal of the cover of darkness anymore, now that he had no need to stalk and drag away unsuspecting teens to feed on unseen. But the night was all that he had. He had known nothing else for far, far too long. There had been that brief walk in the day though, when he had the ring of Amara, and at times like this, all alone, that memory of the sun on his skin came back to him.

   He was alone, heartbroken, confused and desperate, and had not even the sunlight for company. The night doesn't hide the harshness of life like the sun can, strangely enough. There's only the cold, hard concrete of the roads and buildings, the depressing false light of the neon sides of the stores, and the  glow of the streetlights only making the darkness deeper.

   It was certainly not comforting then when the silence of the night was broken by an eerie chanting. He stopped short, listening with his vampire hearing that he had never fully appreciated.  After a few seconds the monotonous voices were broken by an impatient tone, with just a hint of aggression:

 " No! No. I've said this before, brothers.  **Intonation**. It is **vital**. There is only a few minutes before midnight. **Again!**."

 There was something of fatigue in the sighs that followed, but with a little nervous hesitation, the chants began again. It was strange, guttural, and seemed to inexplicably **thicken** the air with a sense of foreboding. Nevertheless, Spike's face lightened up slightly. A spot of demon-slaying  would certainly give him a chance to pound out some issues. 

  As he  walked in the direction of the disturbance , he estimated that there were only about three present - four if the one who had spoken wasn't joining in the chanting. He came to the corner of a crypt and peered around it. 

 He had guessed wrong.

   There were four chanters, pathetic looking horned demons, only about four feet high, dressed in cheap dirty clothes, and standing at the side of a grave. Their leader didn't fare much better, except that he had a pretty expensive looking medallion on and was holding a few ragged scrolls of paper. But there was a fifth person there. He had rags on alright, and a dirty appearance but he was defiantly human – a homeless man by the look of it. His arms and legs were bound and he was on the ground, looking out of it, but still alive.

  Spike's yes narrowed as he took in the scene. Some sort of sacrifice perhaps? Whatever it was, and however pathetic the whole scene, this had become more than a chance to vent some frustration. He could save a human, which still somehow registered in his mind as the right thing to do by Buffy, despite all that had happened. 

   Then of course, that medallion  was probably worth a fair bit of cash.

   The High Priest, as he liked to refer to himself, was getting very agitated. The chant was long, and had to be said precisely, before midnight,  which was drawing close. His master had left specific instructions as to how to raise him, in this very unusual way, should he be killed. Now they stood by his graveside, with the host body. Admittedly it wasn't a prime choice, but once his master had transferred his consciousness from his decaying  body in the ground, into this one, he could soon have it cleaned up.  This way too, there would be no friends or relatives who might wonder at the human's disappearance…

   He looked mercilessly at the homeless man. The pathetic excuse for humanity had no idea that any minute now his mind would have no home except a rotting corpse, which, he understood, pretty much meant death for humans.  The whole method of transfer was quite ingenious, and highly coveted by his Order, depleted as their numbers were. Their master was a sorcerer of types, a human-demon half-breed, whose return would hopefully  hail a new era for them.

 If only these imbeciles could put a bit of **feeling** into it. Anyone would think-

  His irritated thoughts were lost though, as the medallion round his neck began to glow faintly. Just on the edge of hearing, more felt, than heard, were crawling whispers, invocations. The others hesitated momentarily, but continued their chanting with a frantic gesture from him. The spell was beginning. 

Whatever was happening it couldn't be good. It certainly didn't **feel** good,Spike realised as he involuntarily shivered. Time for some action.

   He had taken out one of the chanters before it even knew he was there, and after a brief struggle another's neck was broken swiftly in his grip.   As the third one faced him in pure horror, Spike's attention was diverted by  the leader's gasping cries of "You mustn't stop chanting, the spell must be directed!!"

  The vampire suddenly snarled though, his full game face appearing as the final chanter struck him forcefully on the head with something before rushing by him at a surprising speed.

 A quick glance at the back of the fleeing form told Spike he could never catch up. _And besides._ He thought, as he turned to the one wearing the now-glowing medallion. _This guy looks like more fun._

"What the-?!"

Buffy felt the wind knocked out of her as a small blurred form crashed into her. As she regained her balance, she looked around for what seemed to have been a demon, from the brief glimpse of horns and green flesh she had seen. She was rewarded only with the sight of the swiftly moving figure already exiting the cemetery.

  She sighed, rubbing her side distractedly where the demon had collided with her. 

  Now was not the time to get with the slayage. 

 The demon had knocked her out of her mindless stride, as she had let her feet carry her along the now very familiar route to Spike's crypt.  Now, there was a moment of doubt, confusion as to what she was doing. It was late, it suddenly felt unnaturally cold for this time of the year, and more importantly, she was an emotional wreck. She was confused. 

 The Slayer closed her eyes and sighed.

_Why the hell are you out here looking for Spike?_

 But then she remembered that feeling she had grasped. The safety, the contentment, the sweet relief of being held in his arms. The gentleness of his gaze, his voice, and the  passion and violence that she could sense in his touch, beneath his pale skin. She wanted that back. 

  Her eyes opened. God, did she want it.

 Hugging her light coat around her she walked on, at a quicker pace now through the rows of graves, cold, silent and dead.

She was running by the time Spike caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. Just as he was tearing the medallion from the neck of the demon -still chanting, desperately, in a crescendo of maddened nonsensical syllables.  Unseen by the vampire holding him in his grip, the demon pulled a long jagged stake from the folds of his robe.

 And as Spike turned to look in puzzlement at the glowing medallion in his hand, which suddenly seemed incredibly more **real**, Buffy was there, breaking the demons neck with a sickening crack of bone and a tearing of flesh.

 As the demon fell, Spike tore his eyes away from the medallion, seeing his surroundings as if in a daze. Buffy grabbed his arms forcing him to look at her.

 "Spike, what-"

And then the light blinded their minds, their screams joining in a chillingly beautiful harmony.


	3. Dazed

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! Sorry for the delay in posting..and I get that this isn't much after a long wait…but more to come defiantly in the next coupla weeks. 

"We are all born for love. It is the principle of existence, and its only end."   
-_Benjamin Disraeli_

Anyone looking down from the stars at the deceptively still suburbia of Sunnydale that night, would have marvelled at the peacefulness of  the town, nestled between the woods, hills and desert of California. Bathed in the warm yellow/white glow of the streetlights, rather than the bright lights of skyscrapers, or the garishness of the neon signs of LA, it looked just like any other town. The residents doubtless had their own problems and crises, but there would never appear to be that innate ethos of hopelessness, superficiality or vindictiveness that  the City of Angels hid in her shadows.

   But that's the problem with real evils. They rarely appear in their true form.

 And so, that flare of blinding white light that appeared over a small shadowed graveyard a few minutes ago was a brief glimpse of the evil magicks present here. It appeared quickly, silently to observers, though somehow the violent sound at its origin was betrayed only by a mild vibration in the surrounding streets, barely enough to make the sleeping families stir. 

The watcher in the stars would have had their attention caught however, and looking down into the orderly rows of headstones  they would have seen a figure, darkly dressed, but skin and hair as pale as the stars themselves,  staring back at up them.

 It was a while before Spike even realised he was awake. It had seemed like an eternity since the flash, the pain. Then darkness, filled with strange sensations of warmth, and a flutter of different senses, images and thoughts. So serene had it all seemed, as if he was doped up, cocooned in his own unconscious, that he had been staring up at the night sky, absorbing the beauty and simplicity of the scattering of twinkling lights above him, as if hypnotised by their beauty. 

   It was only when gradually, oh so gradually he began to hear the rustling of breezes sweeping through the nearby trees that his senses truly began to come back to him. 

 He felt the grass beneath his hands, and as he turned his head he felt both a rush of dizziness and the dull throb of his head.

 Still somewhat dazed though, he didn't even have the inclination to curse.

 But on turning to see a still form a few arms length away, lying next to him on the grass, a soft choking cry came from his lips.

 "Oh god no…"

 He struggled to turn his body over, feeling spasms of pain throughout his joints. His movements felt different, new, as if he had forgotten how to use his limbs in his period of unconsciousness. Ignoring the pain though he half crawled, half dragged his body hastily across the distance between them, feelings of terrible foreboding filling his heart as Buffy's small blonde frame lay unmoving, curled up on her side, her back towards him.

 "No, no, you can't do this to me…you can't." he barely recognised his own  voice, his words were so full of panic and fear.

He reached her and grabbed her arm, clumsily pulling her round  towards him as he forced himself to sit up.

 Her eyes were closed, her lips softly set together, and her limbs hung limply as he pulled her into his arms.

 "Buffy, wake up, wake up love." His voice was thick now, he felt the lump forming in the back of his throat as he whispered gently to her, urging her to open her eyes.  He adjusted his hold on her quickly, supporting her neck and with his free hand, stroked her face frantically trying to revive her. As he felt her skin smooth and cool under his touch, it sunk in with a terrible weighty dread, that she wasn't breathing. 

  He felt himself fill with panic, a fluttering all through his chest and gut, and he rocked her desperately, cradling her lovingly in his arms. He felt his eyes brimming with tears and he looked about wildly, calling with a choking voice ,

 "Someone..someone help me! Somebody please!"

 His sobs, his shock and terror so overwhelming they did not leave any room for grief, restricted his voice to a quavering whisper, and his faced screwed up with his anger at the result. Tears falling freely now in confusion and pain he opened his mouth again and let out violently, nonsensical yells for help, deafening in their passion.

 But no one near enough to hear would be making their way into a cemetery at night in response to his wild animal calls.

As his cries died down to a whisper, he held her close, stroking the back of her hair tenderly.

  "I'm so sorry love..I'm so so sorry…."

After a few more moments he pulled her back from his embrace and looked at her face. She looked small and frightened, like a lost child. He shakingly pulled a stray golden lock away from where it had fallen in front of her eyes, his fingers trailing over her skin tenderly as he pulled it away off her forehead.

  He saw her hands, so fragile, so still in her lap. He took one of them in his own and lovingly placed it to his lips, kissing it while his tears streamed down his face, and caressing it in a vain attempt to keep her slender fingers warm, to deny the terrible reality before him. To deny that the one thing that made his existence bearable was gone. Cold and lifeless in his arms. Pressing her hand to his lips once more, he clenched his eyes together in anguish, and shook with unbearable grief.

It was his fault. All his fault. He had no idea what had happened to them, only dimly recalling a fight, her eyes staring at him questioningly, betraying more than confusion. Concern. And something more… But he had seen her as if in a dream, his mind heavy as the atmosphere around him, as the glowing pulsating medallion in his hand had seemed to draw the surrounding space into it, moulding it, changing it, drawing the energy from his limbs, clouding his mind.

  He hadn't been able to warn her. To tell her to go, that something was wrong. He couldn't protect her. He hadn't protected the only person he'd ever really loved, purely, totally, with all that was still human in him. Dru had been nothing to her. A twisted sense of obligation, fascination, intrigued desire. But not love. Not real love. 

 And now he'd lost her.

And oh God Dawn – what could- how could he tell her-how could he face her-

  Suddenly, amidst all his tremblings, he felt the twitch in her fingers like he'd been shocked out of a nightmarish sleep.

 Stuttering, gasping, he managed to get her name past his lips, and he was squeezing her hand, placing her down on the grass beneath him so he could caress her face desperately, his face contorted with hope, and confusion as he still felt her skin cold beneath his.

 With a start and a gasp her eyes opened, wild, terrified as they darted around unseeing, her hand clenching automatically trying to get a grip on reality.

 As he stroked her face turning it towards him, her wild eyes began to focus.  She saw Spike above her, his face awash with a joy she had never imagined in him, his face wet with tears, and framed by a night sky of stars.

 "Buffy!" he cried, his voice choked with tenderness.  She was shaking nearly convulsively, her body curling up into his supporting hold behind her neck. As she gripped onto his strong hand, terrified, her other arm clawed at his chest above her as she searched desperately for something solid and safe.

 "Spike-" she managed to gasp in a frightened little voice, and the sound of his own name made his face crease with gratitude and love.

 "I'm here I'm here.." He whispered soothingly as he held her firmly, stroking her hands and rubbing the top of her forearms in a fraught attempt to stop her shakings.

"So..c-cold" she managed to stutter out , confusion in her face, panic in her shallow voice.

 "I know love, I know. I- I'll…get you to a hospital, I'll help you..I-"

 He was silenced as he saw her body go rigid with shock, and her eyes stare up at him in even greater terror than before. 

He followed her eyes as they turned towards her hand, placed upon the flesh of his chest, his shirt having been torn during the fight. 

 And he knew now what that fluttering, deafening heaviness of his chest had been. For she felt it too now, beneath the palm of her ice-cold hands. 

 It was the frantic pounding of his heart.  

TBC


	4. Bitter Truth (1)

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-)

"_I have almost forgot the taste of fears."_

_- Macbeth 5:v_

Buffy watched Spike's eyes go wide with shock as he moved his hand over hers, both of them feeling the beating of his heart together, sharing the moment as one. She saw him swallow hard, and in a coarse voice, he whispered,

 "This is dark magic…" 

  She heard the weight in those words, a dark foreboding behind them. She watched as he glanced about them with a new sense of unease. From her viewpoint Buffy could still only see his face, still pale- but not deathly so - with his bleached hair, making him seem like some angelic figure, silhouetted above her against the black of the night. But she saw his jaw set grimly as something caught his eye off to their right. She couldn't find the energy to turn her head to follow his gaze; it was as if her mind was detached from their situation, and despite a general feeling of confusion, she had not the curiosity or the inclination to ask Spike what he was thinking.

   Still feeling so weak and light-headed she held onto him for support, shaking once more with the cold. Calling his name again, his face whipped round and he was looking at her with a strange calculating look...she could see him thinking hurriedly, though her own mind still felt sluggish, having still not fully awoken from her slumber of strange unwelcoming dreams. She felt him cupping her face in his hand, stroking it slowly, deliberately, and then coming to rest on her neck. 

   Despite her strange state she felt the pleasure of his touch as she had done when they were dancing, and his firm hold of her now , when she was scared and confused, took her back to that place. Her mind had been shut off then too…then, as now, she had only felt, not thought. Felt the pleasure that came with his embrace, of skin-on-skin as he had held her hands, and rested his chin on her forehead as she had moulded herself into his chest. In this moment though, with this touch,  she could feel heat from his hands, almost burning with life. And she was washed away into another mindless state, as Spike first had when he had woken. She sank into the sudden pleasure his touch brought to her senses after the last minutes of cold numbing pain and confusion.

  Buffy missed the look of horror on Spike's face as he felt her cool skin beneath his now warm flesh…as he rested his palm on her neck, smooth and pale - and completely absent of the rhythmic throb of blood that should be there, had always been there, taunting him, tempting him.

 She had no pulse.

She wasn't breathing. She was cold. They had both felt the beat of a heart in his chest, filling his veins with warm blood, throbbing throughout his limbs, and pounding his mind with its now deafening beat.

And behind them, unseen by the girl in his arms, he had spotted the motionless form of the homeless man, still bound and gagged, but his unblinking eyes wide with fear, the emotion imprinted on his face in what had been his final moments.

There were dark magicks at work here. And whatever end they had been summoned for had obviously not come to pass. His mind had become rapidly clearer with Buffy's awakening, a hesitant clarity and suspicion soon joining his most exquisite relief on seeing her eyes staring up at him .

  But hearing the breezes rustle through the trees again, he became very aware of their vulnerability here in the graveyard. He'd failed to protect her once tonight, and he wasn't about to do it again. With a new found urgency, though his body still felt bruised and beaten, he hauled himself up off his knees, scooping Buffy up in his arms as he did so. Her eyes were unfocused now, a small frown on her face, as though she was only half aware of her surroundings. As he stumbled though the gravestones with her in his arms, his mind was not  yet as filled with a mixture of turbulent thoughts as one might think, his many experiences over his long existence having taught him when action, not thought, was needed.

  He was driven on solely by a fear of the shadows around him, as, unsure as he was of his own strength now, he saw clearly  Buffy's complete inability to defend herself.  All it would take would be a couple of vampires out on the prowl, and they would be like lambs to the slaughter.  For several minutes his mind was filled only with a need to survive, to get away from here, to protect her.

   And yet he did take the time to acknowledge just how light Buffy felt in his arms, as light as he always imagined she would be. It was strange,  but whatever had happened to him, he realised gradually that he still felt his vampire strength beneath it all, beneath his skin. But now that strength relied on the frantic pounding of blood around his limbs to fuel his actions.  

 As he was nearing his destination, he realised with a grim surprise that he could hear his own breathing. He heard it, above the thuds of his heavy footfalls crushing the grass beneath him as he ran, and the distant sounds of traffic, for the first time in over a century. Moving quickly through the tombstones of the dead, holding the Slayer close to his chest,clinging to him even in her dazed state, the situation was so unreal, that he hadn't noticed how easily and naturally he had become re-acquainted with the simple act of breathing.  He was only a little over a century old though…it was only the truly ancient vampires that managed to completely give up all the body's natural habits –  sudden intakes of air when shocked, sighs when frustrated, the heavy breaths of passion teasing the flesh of a lover beneath them.

 It was no wonder Buffy had gasped when she'd awoken…..

…her body had still thought it was human. 

Spike kicked open the heavy door of his crypt, and straight-away  lay Buffy down on bed, before hurrying back across the room to slam the door shut against anything that might have been following his scent of fear. Breathing heavily, through anxiety more than exhaustion, he paced back and forth, his duster sweeping out behind him. It was a few more moments before he seemed to come to a mental decision about priorities. 

_Something huge happened.  You've got to deal with it._ _Now._

  Buffy was his main concern. He crossed the room back towards her slowly, removing his jacket as he did, and throwing it to one side. It was unnerving how in her sleep she looked so still, as she had before…in those moments of complete anguish before she had awoken, as he had stared down at her features, chillingly beautiful  with their deathly pallor. Even now, only the occasional soft moan, and the flutter of her eyes under her eyelids told him that she truly was still there, that he had not lost her.

  As he came within a few metres of her, his legs suddenly seemed to buckle under him.  He crouched down on the stone floor, his hands unsteady as he stared at her.

 _This couldn't be happening._

   He was human. He'd been here before, a long long ,time ago in a body that felt like this. Warm. The warmth he only got now for a little while after he'd fed on a human, when their heated blood flowed through him. His breaths felt sweet, and they filled his tired aching limbs with soothing energy.

  He didn't know what he thought about all this. The seconds passed into minutes, the minutes into an hour, as he sat there, wild scraps of logic arriving hand in hand with sudden fears and hopes in his mind. 

  If he was human…who was he? He still felt like **him**, like the demon he had been all this time, albeit one who'd had confused ideas about his place in the world lately. But could a demon live in a human body? He supposed Angel's soul lived in a vampire's body…but there was a demon in there too. Was there a soul lurking in him somewhere? Yet, if he was human, why did he feel so strong still? A chair nearby confirmed his very un-human strength as he crushed its wooden frame with his hands.

 And then he realised that some part of him knew he should have felt pleased at this transformation. He was still strong. He could still protect  Buffy, protect her family. But now he could walk in the sunlight with her. He could offer her the embrace she'd walked away from at the Bronze, but this time with warmth, and the beat of a human heart attached. He couldn't repulse her any longer. Could he?  

 But Spike wasn't happy. He'd had nagging suspicions the past few days that it was the darkness Buffy had given into during that dance of the Bronze. It was the understanding from someone who came from her world of the night, rather than merely **him**, his passion for her, his…his love.

  Now, in her weakened state, her mind unclear, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd just give in to her dark desires if he just went to her now…she probably wouldn't resist….she wouldn't  fend off his embrace, his touch…She couldn't…

 He shook that thought away, surprised at his own revulsion of it. He almost felt …shame…

 But another glance at her form, all too still, reminded him that there were more pressing concerns than Buffy's motives for the dance, or the conscience he'd been growing lately. 

Buffy wasn't human anymore. 

She was dead. He, the vampire, was now alive. He felt like he was still the demon, that it still existed in him. There was no reason to think then that she wasn't still herself, trapped in a different body…But he couldn't be sure. He knew that nothing here made sense, and his assumptions were just wishful thinking. You couldn't have a vampire's body, without the demon. After all, it was the demon that kept the dead body alive.

It would be untrue to say that there was not a moment's questioning in his mind of whether he would prefer a demon in her body. One that wouldn't be disgusted in touching him, in letting him do all the twisted things he wanted to do to her. To have her return the favour, and make him scream…

 But it wasn't  just her body he desired. 

It was her love. Love from her soul.

 He went over to a chest in the corner and opened it slowly, rummaging around until his eyes fell on the stake. He picked it up, glancing over at what was lying on his bed. 

  _I know her. I know her better than she knows herself sometimes. She wouldn't want a demon to exist in her like that. She wouldn't want her friends to have to suffer from something that walked and talked like her until it smiled cruelly and took in the pleasure of a good kill. _

She would want him to kill it first.

His eyes darted from the stake in his hand to the pale blonde, curled up in the yellow folds of the bed sheets. Slowly he shut the chest and began to advance towards her.

TBC. __

Go on, take like 5 seconds to review the story so far: 

       |

       |

      \/

-   


	5. Bitter Truth (2)

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – V. minor for end of "Fool for love", and "Listening to Fear" (sigh Great eps…), and also for "Becoming Part 1"

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-)

_One could laugh at the world better if_

_ it didn't mix tender kindliness with its brutality._

_-D.H Lawrence_

His presence above her finally roused Buffy from her trance-like state. She opened her eyes sleepily, but her surroundings soon made her sit up, looking around wildly. There was Spike standing right beside her, a shocked look on his face as if he'd just been caught in the act of…something. Missing the stake that he'd quickly lowered, her attention was drawn more to the fact that  she was lying on Spike's bed.

   She felt strange, fuzzy, as if she'd been drugged or something….A cold fear spread through her, as she took in Spike's torn shirt, his guilty look, his close proximity.

  "What the hell did you do to me?" she demanded heavily.

 Spike couldn't help but feel a flash of anger and sorrow at her tone, so reminiscent of her previous attitude towards him, from  before that night at the party, and that dance…Demon or not,  that look of suspicious disgust was on her face from the moment she'd seen him. That hurt. A lot.

 But he had his own suspicions now. He adjusted the hold on the stake he kept hidden behind his back, despite the new wave of reluctance that had come from looking into her eyes again.

  "Think back. What do you remember?" He asked steadily.

He purposely didn't address her by name, as 'love' or even 'slayer'. If he had to do this, he sure as hell wasn't going to treat this thing like it was her.

  But his words soon took the hostile look from her face, and she lost her defensive poise as her gaze fell away, her mind thinking back to how she had come to be here.

  She remembered going to visit her mom early in the evening with Dawn. Xander and Anya had met them there, and she had handed her sister over into their care for the night, while she went home alone, and sat in a darkened room. She remembered how she had forced aside the  long-established taboo she'd placed on thinking about Spike in any other way than a disgusting demon, a mercenary, a killer, not to be trusted. She remembered how she had allowed herself to sink into the memory of the comfort his presence had given her; sitting outside with her the night her mom went into hospital, his soothing words on that degrading night at the party, his strong, yet gentle embrace on the dance floor at the Bronze. 

  She remembered why she had been coming to see him. 

But all this she hid, with her eyes averted. When she turned them back to him, the hostility was gone, but there was still wariness there, an uncertainty.

"I was in the cemetery, you were fighting…there was - a flash - then…" she realised how vague the rest of the images in her mind were, as if it had all been a dream, but she knew  the feelings, the physical sensations, had been all too real:

 "I was cold and…you were there. I – I thought…."

 A frown of doubt and incomprehension appeared on her face as her eyes shifted to his chest. Spike advanced slowly, mistaking her edginess at the close proximity for fear of him, rather than fear of her own urges…

 He sat down on the bed next to her, and slowly took her hand in his. She didn't flinch away. He lifted her hand up, and pressed it to the centre of his chest, and as before, they felt the beating of his heart together.

 " How 'bout that?" he asked in an attempt at light humour, all the while searching for her reaction, looking for some hint of a warmer attitude, a speck of happiness. 

 Buffy didn't meet his eyes though, just staring at their hands.

 "how?" she asked quietly, incredulously.

Spike continued watching her, savouring every moment of her touch, this closeness he had dreamed of only in his fantasies.

 "Spell." He eventually said. "As far as I can tell. We interrupted it. Something went wrong…" There was no need to tell her about the dead homeless man yet…there was worse news to break. 

  In the pause that followed, he realised two things. Firstly, this was Buffy, not a demon. Vampires weren't as nervous as she was now, or as thoughtful, on first waking.. By now she would have either attacked him, or, to put it bluntly, jumped him. It was the way things were. All instinct, no control. 

 Secondly came the terrible feeling of dread. She didn't seem to know. She didn't know what she was. He would have to tell her.

  A nagging thought came to him then, and he grasped at it in a desperate attempt to delay his inevitable task.

  "It was a little late for patrolling wasn't it? " he asked.

  The question broke her own silent reverie, and she pulled her hand away from his, but not violently so.

 "Huh?" 

 "Why were you out that late? What about little sis?" He continued.

  Many thoughts came to her then....thoughts of guilt at how she'd been lying to her friends about what she was doing with her nights, thoughts of panic when she recalled again why she had been coming here to Spike.  She averted her gaze from his, full of that tenderness, concern, and intelligence that had been creeping through more and more lately. She had missed that for years, hidden as it was behind his game face, his killings, his obsession with Drusilla. Whatever this thing was that he had for her now, it had brought out the best in him. He had changed.

 " I should get home… " She said, ignoring the first question. " Dawn was at Xander and Anya's. They'll probably be bringing her by the house soon – what time is it exactly?"

That was confirmation for him then, with the concern about her sister, that she was human. It was in her eyes. He could see the soul. 

 But then he realised just the hard-hitting reality of the situation. He turned his eyes towards the watch on his wrist, a decent model he'd stolen the other day. It was still always wise for a vampire to keep an eye on the time, despite the ability to sense the sunrise. That was the problem of course. The sun.

  It was half four in the morning. They had an hour before dawn. Tops. He had to get her home while it was still dark. And then…then there would have to be explanations. 

 "It's a few hours before breakfast." He said casually. "We should get you home."

 He couldn't help but feel some hope that her regard for him had changed, when she offered no protest to his offer to escort her.

 ~ ~ ~

  They hadn't talked on the way there. They had both been  too lost in their own thoughts, their own fears. But when they got back to the house she wordlessly invited him in, without thinking. They stood in the dark of the hall for barely a moment before they both felt the awkwardness of being alone there together.  Somewhere in the back of their minds they both recalled how they had met each other down here, the night of the Queller; how they had truly worked together for the first time. Unnoticed by each other, both their glances turned towards the dining room, to the spot where he had offered his hand to help her up, how she had taken it gratefully, how they had both held on for a few seconds longer than necessary…

 _Don't think about it. Not yet._ The Slayer thought to herself. She couldn't think about Spike's transformation now. It was all too sudden. And she still felt strange…

 "Thanks" She offered suddenly. She saw Spike's eyes waver, and she wondered then if he had been thinking about the same incident she had. "For walking me home I mean...The hills are not quite alive yet with me yet. I mean, I uh, still feel kinda weird-."

  Spike opened his mouth to speak

"Buffy-"

"-and strangely hungry."She added with a bemused frown.

 His face fell in horror, and she in turn turned back to him in shock.

 "Oh my god, I didn't think –"she began

 He frowned in confusion. Could she really have worked it out?

But her eyes showed something of concern, and even embarrassment.

 "You must be starving ! I mean, now that you're…" her voice trailed off. 

 "…human." He finished.

She nodded . _Wow. This is so huge, so…'wow'. Spike's human. **Spike** is **human**. He's alive._

There were so many questions begging to be asked, but she tried to concentrate on one's like "_Have I lost one of my strongest allies  against Glory?"_  rather than "_They couldn't be sickened by me now, they couldn't judge me  if I…_No, she couldn't deal with that right now. Not with him here before her. She nervously began to wring her hands together, a habit she occasionally lapsed into in emotional situations. Suddenly a thought seemed to grab her. 

"Man, my hands are cold" she muttered, and began to rub her forearms to try and get the circulation going. She stopped abruptly, unmoving, 

 "spike" she said quietly.

 "My skin is freezing. "

Time seemed to stop, the air thickened with tension, panic, the dread that comes the second before tragedy strikes, when you can just about see everything about to happen. She'd been in that moment before, when Angelus had laughed at her, mocked her for leaving her friends alone in the Library. It had been the moment before she'd ran, and ran, and ran…

 Now, the man in front of her met her gaze as it turned towards his, and as he stared back into her eyes, the amount of pain and sorrow she saw reflected in his scared her all the more.

 "Spike. Why am I so cold?"

 Her voice started to choke at the last word, and she was already starting to shake with terror, as he slowly took one of her hands in his, and raised it up, this time, to her own chest. She was too terrified to be embarrassed at his hands being where they were. As flesh was placed to flesh, and held there for endless moments their eyes met. Beneath her palm, there was only stillness. 

 Anyone else might have felt around desperately, searching for a heart beat, would have tried to find their pulse in their neck or wrist, would have laughed at themselves, would have done everything to deny that this impossible thing was happening.

  But Buffy  knew. She knew with a most certain dread just by looking into his eyes. It was her worse fear. She had always been waiting for it.

 All she whispered was a choking "No…" before she started backing away, her eyes, filling with tears, locked into his own. Her legs started to give way beneath her, in much the same way as his own had earlier, and with their hands still entwined together, he reached out to support her, slowing and controlling her collapse onto her knees. No huge sobs wracked her small frame, there were no wails of anger or fear. Only her wide open eyes, silent tears, and a mild trembling of her shoulders as he held her, tense and in shock. She was clutching his hand with fierce strength, as he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair, his pain as great as when he had held her before, thinking she was was lost forever.

 And again, the only sounds were of his incessant torrent of words.

 "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry love…."

   But slowly, oh so slowly,  Buffy found herself becoming deaf to his cries. 

  Instead, as held her close, her head on his shoulder, she felt something stir inside her. Her mind was pulled away from the feelings of shock and absolute horror, and instead, she felt a longing rise inside of her…and she sensed the burning heat of his blood, pounding through his veins, through the flesh around her. 

It called to something within her.

 Something wild and ravenous. 

TBC.

R/R


	6. Call of the Wild

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – Vague for ' Fool for Love.'

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-). 

This was a v.quick post, so I might do some 'tweaking' to the chapter later.

_"The best proof of love is trust"_

- _Joyce Bros._

"Get out."

Spike's eyes opened wide as he heard the shaking whisper by his ear.

"What?"

 Suddenly she was tearing herself out of his grasp, crawling away from him backwards as fast as she could, averting her face.

 He watched her in shock, then anger – not at her, but at the whole situation.

 "Buffy" he said strongly, "I'm sorry, I am, but we need to sort this out, we  need to talk –"

 "Get out now!" she snarled, and she whipped her face round, glaring at him with yellow eyes.

 Spike's face remained unflinching though.

 _Well this certainly happened a lot sooner than I thought it would…_

 He stood up carefully, but instead of  backing away he began to walk towards her slowly. She cowered away staring up at the grim look on his face.

 "I said get out, Spike!" she yelled angrily. He kept advancing though, and she dragged herself up, backing away into the dining room.

 "I said get away!" she screamed, and grabbing the nearest object – a vase- she hurled it at him with all her vampire strength. Of course he stepped aside quickly, and it crashed into the hall, the sound of it shattering only causing her more agony, as she discovered her extra keen vampire hearing. It seemed to drive this thing inside her even wilder, and there was so much energy, fired up by the sounds of destruction, and the continual pulsing of blood through his body that she could still sense from where he stood.

  "Get away, Spike!" she screamed again, clenching her fists so tight with self-control that her nails dug in painfully to her palms. Instead she went to clutch at her head, in a vain attempt to shake this thing out of her.

 But Spike kept approaching, and the next second he was there in front of her, and had grabbed her flailing arms hard,and harshly, by the wrists. He yanked her round to face him, leaning in close to her fanged game-face.

 "Or what?" he asked quietly.

 He watched as the anger and confusion in her face gave way to helplessness. She stopped trying to fight him off, and instead stared up at his face only inches from her own, her eyes wide with pleading.

 "I didn't know, I didn't know it was like this..." she said, her eyes wild. And all the time she could sense the blood, so close, so close…she felt the violence building within her, the raw animal need.

  But Spike shook her again, pulling her wandering gaze away from his neck. He forced her to look into his eyes. Eyes that were filled with pity.

 "You have to fight it love. It'll control you if you don't."

 "Please, please just go…" She warned, a desperate tone building.

 "I won't." he replied loudly, holding her arms firmly.

  "Please Spike…", She yelled back, her voice thick. "I don't want to hurt you!"

  Something passed between them then, as her words sank in. Everything in her face at that moment had shown her feelings towards him. Buffy knew then with a terrible clarity, amidst all the turmoil of urges that were wracking her body, that the moment had come when she could no longer hide the truth from him. He had seen in her eyes what he had been yearning for, hoping for, dreaming about, for longer than she could know.

  That knowing look came into his eyes, the one he used when he looked into her soul and told her what he saw there. 

 His voice lowered, softened.   

  "Why were you really there last night?"

The question threw her, and though she struggled to stay focused, she found she couldn't find the concentration to lie…everything just blurted out, as she fought this thing within her.

 " I wasn't patrolling. I – I had to see you, I couldn't get you out of my head….and now, everything's just gone so wrong, I don't know...I don't know why this is happening to me, I don't understand…'

Her eyes had averted away from him, but he pulled her back round again, trying to keep her attention.

'We'll sort this out love. We'll make it right. I promise. I won't leave you like this."

  Buffy heard the words, so full of unexpected comfort, like those he had offered the night her mom said she was going into hospital. Again, she found it was Spike who could help her get an extra degree of control.

  But Spike knew it wouldn't last for long. If he left this now, he'd be looking over his shoulder all day – for he truly did have no intention of abandoning her. 

 Slowly, they both became aware of the strong grip he still had on her arms. Their eyes both focused on the same thing…and coming to a decision, Spike relaxed his grip on her. He turned his own arm around, so that the blue veins on his wrist stood out clear, her eyes watching all the time involuntarily.

  She looked up at him for a second with  uncertainty, but without as much revulsion as she would have hoped in other circumstances. This wasn't like with Dracula…she was a vampire now. Reason had nothing to do with it. 

 He came close, placing his other hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

 "I won't let you lose control. But you need this now. "

 She didn't have to be told twice.

Spike barely winced as the sharp teeth pierced his skin, and she drank with low animal moans. 

~ ~ ~

Afterwards, he had led her over to the sofa, and given her some space. God knows he'd needed it the first time , and here she was with a soul…

 In the meantime, feeling somewhat light-headed he had searched around for a first-aid kit. He found one quite quickly, while rooting through the kitchen cabinets, and he gave a grim smile. Of course the Slayer would need a few of these around. It was something of a novel experience, bandaging his wrist. It made him realise just how much care you needed to take with these human bodies. How easily they could stop working. Joyce's illness had been a harsh reminder of that already though. He had shared Buffy's helplessness then, remembering a time long-ago when there had been family he'd loved; when sickness was all too common…

  He shook away those thoughts. _What is it with this whole empathy thing I've got going lately_? 

 Having been reminded of the fragile nature of his new body, he suddenly recalled Buffy's earlier comment. Food. He **was** hungry…B_loody famished more like._  He helped himself to some of the contents of the Summers' fridge, and started to make himself a sandwich. Being a vampire who'd never restricted himself to a 100%  blood diet, the food wasn't anything new. But sitting here alone, at the Summers' breakfast bar, he couldn't help but be struck by the surreal nature of it all. He kept expecting Buffy to come through the back door, after some slaying session, and throw him out.

 He gave a quick glance at the back door, just in case. He laughed at himself silently, and with little humour. Everything was wrong. And yet parts of it had felt so right…

Sighing, he realised why the back door had actually been nagging him – it was the glass. He realised – windows. He went round the whole of the house, pulling all the curtains across. He made especially sure that tehre'd be no light coming through her bedroom window. Buffy'd already had to face one terrible aspect of being a vampire. He wasn't going to add the searing pain of sunlight on her flesh to it.  As he turned to leave her bedroom though, he couldn't help but stare wistfully at her bed. Human he might be now, but he was still a man in love. He couldn't help the images that crept into his mind. And that nagging feeling was still there…Once she'd seen the darkness, would she be more willing to…

  He sighed again. Leaving Buffy on her own for that time, had given him a chance to collect himself at first. He just prayed Buffy was too busy pulling herself together right now to recall why it was Riley had gone to get bit by vamps on a regular basis…

   She probably had no idea at the moment what kind of bond could be forged by what they had just done. But she was having to learn very quickly about the darker sides of being a vampire. He remembered all too clearly her words earlier, as the feed had called to her;

_"I didn't know, I didn't know it was like this..."_

So she had finally come into his world. Far more than she had with all Dracula's mind-games. She had had to face the darkness within her. Spike honestly wasn't sure how he felt about this; he didn't want her to suffer, but it wasn't like she was a normal human…she'd always been on the edge of his world…Perhaps she had always needed this..

With a new suspicion forming in his mind, he finally went and sat with her in the front room,  perching on the edge of the coffee table next to her. She barely looked up, sitting on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped over her knees.

  "How are you feeling?" It was the first time he'd asked since she'd drank… he honestly didn't think she could have answered earlier. She'd been in too  much shock.

 "I feel disgusted with myself of course." Buffy answered  eventually, her eyes cast downwards.

Spike stared at her for a beat.

 "No. You don't."

 Her head whipped up, and a look of anger came over her face to protest. But to her horror, she found she couldn't. His voice mesmerised her with its truth. The truth she'd been hiding from the past half hour.

 "You don't feel disgusted, or sickened. It's what your body wanted. Its what it craves, its  how it works."

 He could see in her face that she knew this was the truth, and that she accepted it. But then he saw something else…disappointment, fear.. and he realised that what he'd said hadn't been enough. 

 Hardly daring to believe it, he voiced his thoughts:

 " It wasn't just your new body though was it, love? It was** you. **You…**enjoyed **it. Didn't you?"****

Their eyes met, and their gazes held. He saw the complete vulnerability in her face, and she felt unspeakably gratified, and amazed at his understanding, beneath all her horror.

 "Yes." She whispered.

 "God, yes.".

TBC

R/R


	7. Proximity

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – General early season 5, and it helps to know Spike's tale of killing the slayer in China, in 'Fool for love'.

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-).  Also, I get that you might notice some parallels here with season 6 Buffy here.

 Also, *heavy on the dark angst *,

_"This is the very worst wickedness, that we refuse_

_ to acknowledge the passionate evil that is in us. _

_This makes us secret and rotten."_

_-D.H.Lawrence _

  They stared at each other in the darkness. Somehow her hands had found her way into his, and they sat there facing each other, seeing the same look in each other's eyes.

 There was fear of course. Buffy was terrified at what she was feeling, the darkness she had tasted and enjoyed. It had been the purest kind of pleasure, of excitement. It had made her feel alive in the way that nothing else had in these past weeks of helplessness, fearing for her mother's health, trying desperately to comprehend the truth about her sister, and all the while the threat of Glory lurking in the background. Riley's betrayal had made her dead inside. That's when she'd gone out into the night, looking for something, someone to make her feel, to want her, take her and tell her everything was going to be fine.

  But now she'd found something so much more. Sitting here now, the taste of Spike's blood still on her lips, she could sense this wild thing within her. She knew it was the demon, with its lust for blood and destruction, but it didn't **feel** evil. Instead it filled her with a passion, an acute awareness and lust for all the life before her; she was more conscious of the strength, the feel, of her own body than ever before, and her senses were filled with the sounds of Spike's breathing, and the pounding of his blood through all his veins, just under the surface of that pale smooth skin.  She felt like she was drowning in his presence.

  And the experience was so incredibly intense and all-consuming, that she was terrified of losing it.

  Spike knew he should have been horrified by the confession Buffy had just made. He knew that he should vow here and now to correct all this, to find some way to turn her back, to pull her back from this dark place within her she was discovering. But the way she was looking at him now, she seemed the most alive he had seen for a long time. Her eyes were flickering all over him, as he knew she was taking in every part of his body – tempted so greatly. 

 The problem with Giles, with Buffy's friends, and even with Buffy herself until recently, was that they thought vampires could only ever see humans as a snack, as 'bigmacs on legs'. But then, that night when Buffy had come to him for help, asking how he killed those other slayers, she had listened in disgust to how sensuous the kill could be sometimes. It had taken the discovery of Riley's nocturnal activities to understand that it wasn't just Spike and Drusilla…that there were more levels to the dark pleasures of the feed. 

 Now, finally he could see in her eyes what he had barely thought possible, what he had suspected could be there within her, but never thought she would find.

 Understanding.

 Buffy heard his breathing become rapid, heavy, and she found her own matching his – her body unconsciously reacting, in the habit of a lifetime, to the passion stirring within her. She found her hand moving up his chest, coming to rest on the smooth, warm  flesh of his neck.

  There were only two paths to choose now, with this wild, panicking yearning within her. She could have her game face on, and her fangs breaking through the skin of his neck in a heartbeat. She could hold him with her vampire strength, taking full advantage of his shock, his uncertainty, and could drink enough of his sweet hot blood in a moment, to make him weak to resist her. She could let that side of the animal she had become loose, and go for the kill. But then, in the end, she would be alone…

  Whereas path number two could offer her all she'd been searching for since the night Riley had left – no, since Angel had left. Since Angel had turned to Angelus.

 And so, she pulled him to her suddenly, harshly, and with no possible of resistance, and crushed his lips to her own.

 She gave the wildness another means of release.

TBC

R/R

_Sorry offering's so short : not feeling fab today. _


	8. Glare of the morning sun

`Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – General early season 5, with a vague ref to 'Nightmares'

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-).  

Rating: I think PG-13 still covers this. 

_# this is where your sanity gives in_

_and love begins_

_never lose your grip _

_don't trip, don't fall, _

_you'll lose it all _

_the sweetest way to die #_

_-'Paralyzed', The Cardigans_

   Every second of her mouth on his, every second of her touch, was violent in its passion. Spike sensed Buffy had finally let the aggression of her soul free. He had always seen it within her beneath the surface. It was why he had mocked her schoolgirl romances with Angel and Riley. She hadn't been true to herself with them, true to her nature. This was real now, even if had taken a demon inside her to bring it to the surface.

  Buffy couldn't think, not really. Everything was driven by instinct, by lust, by an insatiable need. But there were things she did register, things that would haunt her afterwards; How right he felt, and how strong his hold on her was, how sweet and hard his kisses were, how smooth and taut his muscled body was as her hands wandered wildly beneath his shirt.

  It was pure ecstasy, and pure heat, for but a minute.

 And then she couldn't help crying out in pain at the burning of the back of her neck. Spike new the smell of sizzling flesh all too well, and instinctively pulled her aside, away from the ray of sunlight that had snuck through a gap in the drapes.  They both fell to the floor beside the coffee table, clinging to the shadows of the darkened house. 

  Buffy was in shock for a moment, before gingerly going to touch the burnt flesh. She winced at the pain, and Spike was holding her in an instant. He softly, gently pulled her hair away to one side, and found himself drawing in a sharp intake of breath in compassion, seeing the ugly blistered skin. At least it hadn't actually caught fire. That was a pain unimaginable, sickening in its agony. 

Buffy sat there shaking for a second, letting him hold her. Then she sat up straighter, pushing aside his embrace.

 "Dawn." She said.

 Spike gave a sad smile.

 "Yup. You've gotta watch out for it. Can't let it sneak up on you."

 She turned and looked at him steadily.

 "No, I mean Dawn. My sister. She...she's going to be back soon. She likes us to have breakfast together before school.  Xander doesn't mind bringing her because he gets up so early anyway..."

 Her voice trailed off, as she recalled the real world that last night had taken her away from. Her gaze faltered and she looked away, shell-shocked.

 "What am I going to tell her?"

Spike placed his hand under her chin and pulled her round to face him with her tear-filled eyes.

 "Buffy, you just act normal around Dawn. Just till she leaves for school. But then we've got to contact the wicca's, love. Talk to Giles, hit the books. We-"

 He didn't know why he was saying this. He didn't know what he wanted. He just knew he felt he should do the right thing, what he had promised her earlier. He couldn't leave her like this. As for him…he really hadn't had time to think about that. Mortality was a serious thing to just have thrown back on you.

 "You need help. We need to get you back to normal." He finished quietly.  

He held her gaze until he saw his words had sunk in. She nodded slowly, and he could see in her eyes how much she needed him; to support her, guide her, take the lead here.

 "Uh, how 'bout you go take a shower, change your clothes? I''ll er-" he glanced at the sofa, cushions thrown everywhere, and the coffee table which had had all the objects on it swept away in their brief moment of passion.

 "I'll tidy up here."

He helped her up, and after a moment of uncertainty, Buffy pulled herself together.

 "Okay." She said, and looked around again. "Okay." She started to head up the stairs. Just as Spike was turning back to the front room, she called his name.

 "Spike." She called from halfway up the stairs. "When Dawn comes…what are you-"

"I'll hide in the basement or something. I promised you I wouldn't leave. I meant it." He reassured her, and he saw the relief on her face, though he knew she tried to mask it.

~ ~ ~

After her shower Buffy stood staring into the bathroom mirror. There was no reflection. Nothing. She couldn't imagine how Spike or Angel must have felt to have gone for centuries, with the universe telling them they didn't exist; they weren't worthy of a reflection. She placed her hand over her chest again. No heartbeat, nothing. She stood there for several minutes as she simply didn't breathe, before leaning forward and exhaling only an inch from the surface of the mirror. No condensation formed. The air from her lungs wasn't warm enough. 

  She looked down at her pale skin, the blue veins that seemed to cover her body, below the practically translucent cold flesh. She was a corpse.  

That was when she finally threw up. 

~ ~ ~

 When She heard Dawn's voice below she almost started crying again. That voice ringing out from downstairs said that this ,wasn't a dream, it wasn't some strange experience contained to one strange night. A new day had come. And this was very. very real.

 Dawn yelled a couple of times before Buffy found herself calling back  automatically;

 "I'm in the bathroom Dawn. I'll be down in a minute."

  Making herself move, telling herself that this was just another challenge to get through, like her mom's illness. She had to be strong. She couldn't break down any more. No more tears.

 She pulled on a thick bathrobe, whose long sleeves and length would cover as much skin as possible. It wasn't just the paleness she didn't want Dawn to see, it was the scratches around her wrists, on her back, her arms.. She told herself they must have been from the fight, from the blast, but she remembered how intense those moments with Spike downstairs had been…

  When she came downstairs Spike was no-where to be seen. Instead there was only the sound of Dawn rooting round the kitchen for bowls and cereal, while the radio played in the background.

 Buffy stood in the door of the kitchen watching her little sister make them both breakfast, while lip-syncing to the song on the radio.  She took in how happy Dawn seemed, how normal this all was.

 Then she saw that Dawn had raised up the blinds in the kitchen. The whole place was bathed with the fresh light of morning.

 "Woah, Buffy you scared me!" Dawn had jumped in surprise when she'd spotted her sister standing silently in the doorway.

 "Sorry." Buffy said, forcing herself to keep up the act of normality.

 Dawn motioned to a bowl of cereal on the breakfast bar.

 "I got you fruit-loops." She said, smiling. The smile faltered with Buffy's hesitation, and lack of movement into the kitchen.

 "I'm actually not feeling all that good today Dawn."

Her sister's face fell.

"Oh."

"But, ah thank-you anyway. How, er, how was your night?"

 Dawn grinned.

 "Oh it was a blast. Anya wanted to play Uno, but then" she giggled, "there was this whole thing with the popcorn, and-"she burst out laughing recalling their own private jokes.

"I-m, I'm sorry, you-er, you kinda had to be there."

Buffy gave a faint smile.

 "Yeah.."

"How was your night?"

Buffy stared back at her sister, just drinking her juice, and looking at her questioningly.

 "It was…"

Her sister's face, open, smiling, starting to look at her the way she always looked at her older sister when she started zoning out. Innocent. Happy, after all the worry over their mom had passed. Buffy stood up straighter, trying to force the fatigue and the regret from her voice.

"Long. It was a very long night."

Dawn rolled her eyes.

 "Well it must be – you haven't even pulled all the curtains back yet. And I'm sorry, but I made breakfast, so that's your job now." She looked pointedly at her sister, who smiled at her lovingly.

 "You're a good kid Dawn. I wanted to tell you that. You've helped out a lot since mom got sick…"

 Her mother. Oh god, her mom was coming home from the hospital any day now. She didn't have much time…

  "I'm, er, I'm going to go get dressed, okay?"

Her sister waved her away, absorbed in reading the back of the fruit loops box.

 "Okay, whatever…but I'll probably be leaving for school soon." She caught Buffy's confused look. "I know it's early but I have stuff to do."

 "Dawn?" Buffy warned.

"Yes?"

 "Would that 'stuff' be homework you should have done last night?"

"No?" Dawn said hopefully.

But Buffy didn't give her a lecture. She just looked at this sister she loved. Despite the truth - what she was- Buffy felt Dawn was a part of her. She knew all her expressions, her little quirks, her excuses, that hopeful/guilty look she had on her face right now. She loved her for all that.

She smiled that sad smile again.

 "Then...have a nice day Dawn."

With that she went back up to her room hugging her bathrobe around her tightly. 

When she opened the door to her bedroom she almost cried out loud.

 "Dammit Spike, what are you doing here?" She hissed at the man pacing about her room.

 "I came up to check on you and then the little bit came home and I had to hide."  He whispered back, mirroring the annoyance in her voice. It was a nostalgic reminder of their relationship before this whole thing, before Spike's feelings for her had begun to show. It was from that strange time when they'd said they both hated each other, but in truth, it was only a mild irritation mixed with something akin to understanding, the unacknowledged relief that came from meeting a fellow fighter when you were patrolling in the dark all alone.

 They both pause a second and inwardly smiled at that lapse into their past relationship.

 Then Buffy told Spike of the decision that had come to her, looking at her sister down in the kitchen.

 "We can't tell the others."

Spike advanced, staring at her in confusion.

 "_What_?"

She stared right back, meeting his eyes.

 "I can't tell them. Not Willow and Tara, not Xander, Anya, and certainly not Giles. I just can't."

"Buffy, you can't mean you want to stay-"

"A vampire? No. But this has happened to me before. I know it wasn't really real then…but I remember the looks on their faces. I remember Giles…I can't do that to them. Not if I'm not 100% certain we can fix this."

Spike paced about again angrily.

"So what do you propose we do?"

"We find somebody else. This is a hellmouth, there's got to someone out there who can help. Maybe…maybe we can find that demon who got away?"

 "He could be anywhere!" Spike yelled.

 "Keep your voice down!" She hissed back again the menace in her voice matching the aggression in his. There was a flash of that tension between them, before Buffy seemed to visibly shake away her anger. She gave a deep sigh, and it was several seconds before she spoke again, with a forced steadiness struggling to hide her vulnerability.

 "Listen, we have to try to deal with this ourselves. Somebody must know something. But…if we can't fix this…. If I have to stay like this…"

 Her voice was barely audible now, the things she was considering were so frightening, so unbelievable.

 "If  they find out this can't be fixed…that's the end Spike. They'll never look at me the same. They might- they might panic and…"

 Spike realised then her terrible dilemma. Of course she couldn't say anything. They'd all be suspicious, and it would only take one of them to do something stupid, or one with too big a mouth to let the secret out to the world. The demons would use this. The majority of them viewed vampires as inferior anyway. To kill the Slayer all you'd need now would be a little sunlight…

 He sighed, and took her hands in his, the action barely registering as strange now.

 "I know a guy. But he's- he's dark. It might not be safe...if he recognised you…"

Buffy nodded, anxious but hopeful.

 "Please Spike. Anything. Who is he? A demon, a warlock?"

Spike shrugged.

 "I'm not exactly sure what he is. He's just known as Doc."

TBC

R/R


	9. We go together

`Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – vague ref to "harsh light of day"…and if you're v.observant you might spot the ultimate vague ref to the Angel ep ".I will remember you."

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-).  

 Hey, no flames re: my use of Doc 'kay? If he did realise he's talking to the slayer, there's no saying that Glory would care..after all, she could pretty much kill her any time she liked.

 This was written fairly quickly…and sorry 'bout the delay in posting lately.Work. Ack. And Smallville fic J

"The things that we love tell us what we are" -St. Thomas Aquinas 

"Word on the street is he's the main man when it comes to resurrection spells." Spike continued. "Could know something about what that lot were doing last night."

Buffy looked at him uncertainly.

 "What makes you think it was a resurrection spell?"

Spike tried to keep his face casual, wondering whether he should mention the homeless man. He didn't think she could handle the news of a death on their hands right now.

 "Well, apart from it being held over a grave and all you mean?"

She took that in with an apologetic look.

 Spike sighed.

 "I dunno…maybe he'll recognise the med-"

The medallion.

 They both looked at each other, amazed at how easily they'd forgotten about it.

 Buffy tried to fight back the waves of dread and hope. She asked her question slowly.

 "Spike…do you still have it?"

 Spike's mind was racing. He'd had it in his hand before the spell, he remembered how much it burnt his hand with its energy, how he felt the darkness seeping from it into the air. And then…it had just gone.

  He cursed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

 "Dammit, it must have…converted  into all that energy or something, it looked like it was sort of going out of phase anyway before the blast…"

 Even in her disappointment Buffy managed to look questioningly at his terminology.

 He shrugged.

 "What? I'm a vampire. We know about occult things."

She was going to carry on smirking when they realised what he'd said. 

He wasn't a vampire. Not any more. 

This was going to take a bit of getting used to…

  The moment started to fill with the tension of deep thoughts, and Buffy shook herself out of it. _Remember, you have to stay in control. You have to sort this out fast._ She wasn't sure how much longer she could go without that hunger creeping up inside her again…

"Take me to him."

Spike paused before glancing towards the window. Buffy realised then the problem.

"Spike I can't wait 'til it gets dark."

He placed his hands on her shoulders reassuringly.

 "Then let me go now."

 She could see in his eyes the anticipation, the fear of going out into the light again. He'd had a taste of it when he'd worn the ring of Amara of course, short though it was. Now, stretching before him was an end to the limitations she felt now. The basic freedom of movement taken away from you the moment the sun rose, always hiding form the light, never able to escape the world of shadows.

 She felt a flutter of dread at that prospect. She walked in the night more than most, she knew that world of moonlight and shadows, of demons and things that crept up behind you in dark alleys, things lying in wait, everything out following their own evil pursuits. She didn't know if she could stand living in that world alone. She didn't know what it would do to her if she had to stay out in the cold, forever without the sun on her face.

 At the same time though she looked at Spike with something of a greater understanding. That was all he'd had for a long time. Did she help keep him in the real world? Was she his sunlight, the one symbol of life, of normality, of goodness in his entire existence?

 She saw that he was likewise her link to the darkness, offering her more than her everyday life, a taste of raw instinct, of dark pleasures that she had always been tempted by, but never dared to reach for.

 They were both creatures out of their worlds. They stood together and alone on the border of light and dark. It was a frightening place to be; it tore you apart inside with conflicting feelings and thoughts. She didn't want to be there alone.

  "Get me to the tunnels. We'll go together."

Spike looked at her uncertainly before giving that small comforting smile of his, and a small nod.

~ ~ ~ 

  Spike pulled the manhole cover across quickly the minute he'd got Buffy underground. He couldn't help but feel pangs of regret at how rushed the dash from the house had been, how much he'd had to concentrate on keeping Buffy covered in the blanket, not to mention unseen by any of the neighbours. He had barely had time to acknowledge the warmth on his skin, with only a quick ecstatic look up at a blue sky and the garish sun just above the rooftops. 

   They'd waited until they were sure Dawn had left before they'd stood in the doorway, ready to run. There had been a look of complete trust between them as they'd stood there, Spike's arm around her, ready to guide her through the burning light.

 Now he stood in the dank sewer looking at the Slayer cowering away from the diminishing rays of light, before tentatively coming out from under her blanket. A few years ago he would have treasured a sight like this. He would have relished in her shame and her weakness. He would have degraded and humiliated her before he killed her – and he would have enjoyed it. Now he only felt her pain; he wanted nothing more than to restore her to her former self.

 But then, in the back of his mind was the feel of her hungrily tearing at his flesh, first for blood, and then for pleasure…

  He tried to ignore those thoughts again, though it was becoming increasingly hard to do so.

 Buffy was looking around the grimy surroundings with a weak smile on her face, trying not to imagine that this might be the world she had to adjust to from now on.

  Folding up the smoking blanket she turned to Spike.

 "Thank you" She said simply.

  As little as she could contemplate telling her friends about her changed feelings towards Spike, let alone her whole situation, she couldn't help but wish they could see him as she did now. Here he was, with the opportunity and the means to kill her. The chip probably wasn't working anyway after his transformation, but even if it was, she was a demon now. He could do what he wanted with her…he could have done anything to her when she'd been unconscious. But he hadn't, and she couldn't help feeling that he really had changed before this, and it wasn't just due to his being human anymore…He was a good person. She knew he wanted her, she'd seen enough to know that, but she suspected there was something deeper there. He looked at her with so much feeling, so much…love

  Lost in their separate thoughts, they set off into the gloom. 

~ ~ ~

Spike led her through the dark tunnels, while she listened enviously to the distant sounds of life above them. They walked in relative silence, each appreciating the strangeness of spending so much time in each other's company, without hating each other. Instead they both felt the nervousness of new  feelings, a new understanding, and of course, the memory of what they had been about to do only a short while earlier.

  Buffy was still trying to keep her mood light. _C'mon, you've gotta admit that life on the hellmouth is never slow, s_he told herself. _In one night you saved Spike's life, killed some bad guys,  turned into a vampire, drank blood and nearly had sex with Spike._

 Ah. Somehow  she couldn't quite make herself see the funny in all that…

~ ~ ~

 They came up out into a shaded alley, but still Buffy couldn't help proceeding nervously, wondering if every step could bring her into contact with the sunlight. Spike watched her, and saw himself as he had been all those years ago…lost, scared and yet enticed by this new world. 

 As they approached a door at the end of the alley, Spike turned to Buffy.

 "Are you sur-"

"Yes."  She stared determinedly back at him. Spike looked uncomfortable as he gestured towards her face.

 "Better put your game face on. Just to make sure you're not recognised."

 He knew what he was asking…the change in features was a sign that the essence of the demon within had been brought out, and with it came a thirst for destruction, for the feed. Seeing Buffy's uncertainty, he stepped closer to her and hesitantly raised his hand to her face. Feeling the heat of his touch, and his breath so close, Buffy felt the stirring inside her. Spike stepped back as soon as he saw the teeth, the furrowed brow, and those piercing yellow eyes.

  She nodded, letting him know she had it under control, yet still fighting her instincts as he turned his back to her to knock on the door.  When there was no immediate answer, Spike pushed open the un-locked door anyway, and they went into the poorly lit interior

   There were piles of books everywhere- on the floor, on desks and bookshelves, and the walls were covered with all manner of pictures, ornaments, even clipboards, while junk filled any remaining space. The place had 'creepy', written all over it. But not quite so much as the man who appeared from behind a curtain in a back room, humming disturbingly upbeat tunes.

 He looked like a weird sort of grandpa figure in his plaid robe, and his large glasses. But there was something in his eyes, his smile…they both sensed that this guy wasn't entirely human. _Not that you can really hold that against anyone anymore, _Buffy thought to herself wryly.

  "I thought I heard visitors." He said to them, in his strange unblinking way.

  Spike and Buffy exchanged a look, still taking care to stand close together, unsure in this unfamiliar place. Buffy also noticed quickly how much Spike was trying to stand in front of her, hide her from this guy's full view, or at least attract attention away from her.  He was being protective. It was a new feeling…it took her back to earlier that morning when he'd held her in his arms…

 "You Doc?" Spike asked gruffly, and Buffy prayed that he didn't upset this guy.

But he just smiled in acknowledgment, and kept on _staring_ at them.

 "How can I be of service?" he asked.

Spike spoke confidently, trying to stay in control and not let this guy ask too many questions.

"Heard you were the man to talk to about resurrection spells. Know anything about some green horned guys doing some chanty mojo over a grave last night?"

 Doc kept staring before replying in that too-friendly voice.

 "Oh, those'd be the minions of Kalt'ar I expect. Always trying out a few…loopholes, to raise that master of theirs."

 He cocked his head at them, his gaze flowing between Spike and Buffy.

 "I did warn them that you have to be very careful with that sort of thing." He gave a disturbing smile.

 "I see you're having a little 'Freaky Friday' situation here."

They couldn't help but show their discomfort and surprise.

 "That's too bad." Doc continued.

 Buffy sensed Spike about to lose his temper and she placed a restraining hand on his arm. 

 "You know what's happened to us." She said coolly. "Can you fix it?"

 Doc took a step towards her, but she stood her ground, tightening her hold on Spike.

 "Oh now, things like this can't really be 'fixed' as such. Its really a non-reversible spell, very unstable…"

 He leaned closer in to Buffy.

 "…which is why I told them to be careful."

 She glared back at him, un-phased, before he suddenly turned, and started pottering about the room with strange small little steps, searching through all the junk. All the while he kept on humming. They looked on in frustration, wanting a straight answer as to whether he could help them or not. Buffy had tried not to let her fear overcome her when she'd heard the spell couldn't be reversed. _At least he knows what the spell was…and whatever he's looking for could help…_

Just then Doc appeared with a very small metal box, with the sort of engravings on you don't want to look at too long for fear of the nightmares you'll have. He opened it very carefully with a key that he'd had somewhere about his person, and took something out, his hands and the dim light obscuring their view.

  He approached them then, with those short little steps.

 "You're in luck. " He said, in a tone that immediately made them question the truth in his words.

 He turned to Buffy and quickly took her hand in his. She went to jerk it away, but his grip was tight, and he was placing something in her palm.

 Looking down she saw a very small vial with a luminous  liquid within it.

"Drink this and you'll become human again. You must drink it all, and you must not return and ask for more."

 Buffy stared at him, but it was Spike who voiced her disbelief;

 "What? That's it? One little potion can turn a vampire into a human?"

Doc turned to him smiling.

"Its blood. Not a potion."

 "I don't believe this." Spike yelled angrily. " We're not going to pay you for some amateur scam like this."

"Oh you won't have to pay me." Doc said with faint amusement.

Now Buffy spoke up,

 "You're telling me there's no cost? At all?"

Doc turned to her with suddenly all black expressionless eyes.

 "That's not what I said."

Buffy and Spike backed off, watching in horror as his eyes returned to normal.

 "There will be a price you have to pay. The world needs balance after all."

Slowly it dawned on Spike with a terrible clarity.

 "I can't stay human can I?" he asked hoarsely, meeting Doc's steady gaze.

TBC. 

R/R –perlease, pretty please.


	10. Denial

`Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy,  not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet.  

Spoilers – Vague ref to Restless.

'Note: Thankyou all for the encouraging feedback – it means so much! And if you haven't yet, please do…c'mon, its like 10 seconds of your life, in return for (hopefully) being thoroughly riveted by this fic that I've spent long arduous hours on :-).  

 Hey, no flames re: my use of Doc 'kay? If he did realise he's talking to the slayer, there's no saying that Glory would care..after all, she could pretty much kill her any time she liked.

 Oh, and I'm back. Told you I would be.

_"A pity beyond all telling is hid in the heart of love."_

_-w.b.yeats_

He couldn't stay human. He knew it immediately, certainly, instinctively.

What was worse was that, meeting Doc's damned calm gaze, Spike knew that he'd _always_ known that this was a temporary gig.

Even as the tension came to fill the air, as the slayer at his side looked between the two of them in incomprehension, he felt the sad little smile of foolishness coming to his face. Of course this wouldn't last. Some things would always be too good to be true.

 It had been a spell that went awry – a spell that was unstable to begin with. It hadn't been meant for them.

 Sure, usually the universe had no problem bestowing death- and a resident demon- onto a human. People were turned every day, and had been for all time. But Buffy had not fought the good fight and lost, finally giving in to the fate of many Slayers before her…this had been a mistake. Not just 'unfair' or 'unjust' as the death of a Slayer always would seem…but actually **wrong**.

  They'd felt wrong since it happened. Oh, they'd told themselves that it was the physical change they'd been through – the shock of suddenly finding oneself in a different body. But Spike knew the truth now…hell, he'd known it the minute he'd held that medallion in his hand and felt the innate unholiness of it…

 This was not meant to be.

 Balance had to be regained.

"Spike?" Buffy's voice came to his ears. The ex-Slayer, still with her game-face on was looking between the two men, sensing an acceptance on Spike's side , but at a complete loss as to why.

 "Spike, what are you talking about? "

 Her eyes darted angrily back and forth.

 "Will somebody please tell me what is going on?!"

 That smile on Spike's face, so sad…so…Oh god. She'd seen that before. When their dance at the Bronze had come to an end, when she'd had to go…as she'd heard his voice utter a choking understanding, she had glanced up for a second, and she had seen that smile. That sad smile..

 She didn't know where such a terror came from- such a fear of his losing his humanity – but it struck her like a physical blow. To condemn him to living like this for eternity, trapped in a body that was but a shadow in the world – trapped with a demon…even if he still **was** that demon….she didn't exactly understand who he was anymore, but she knew that the hunger , the feed was gone now. He was free. To inflict what she was feeling now onto him again…such a dark, empty kind of torture. He didn't deserve it. Not Spike. Not any more. 

 Her eyes wide she suddenly turned to Doc with a terrible vengeance in her amber eyes, her fists clenched at her sides.

 "Say it's not true. " She growled. "Say he can stay human."

"Buffy…" Spike said softly at her side.

"No!" she yelled, ignoring his pull on her arm. She never left Doc's gaze.

"What's the universe going to do about it huh? What's going to happen if he stays like that?" The menace, the bitterness in her voice was cutting.

 "What the _hell_ is the harm in him staying _alive_?"

 _You could tear his throat out right now_.

 The thought came unbidden, to the forefront of her mind, actually making her fists clench tighter, her stance change perceptively,  poised for attack. She would have liked to have said it was purely the demon's influence. She would have like to….

 Seeing her rising anger Spike could not help but be moved, but there were two things that took priority to looking for signs of love right now: firstly, he was getting the feeling that Doc might not be one of those bad guys it was a bad idea to piss off. Secondly, he couldn't allow Buffy to get the taste of the hunt again. Not now, with a possible salvation in sight. A sudden thought, and he was reaching out to grab one of her hands so tight that she spun around and unclenched her fingers in a reflex action. It took a second for the rage to dim from her eyes a little, and for her to comprehend his action.

 She was still holding the vial – the one thing that could save her – in her palm. She'd nearly crushed it in her rage. A lump on her throat at the thought of what she'd nearly done, and Spike was tentatively taking the vial from her, and placing it into the inner pocket of his duster with an unsteady exhale. Even while the anger still raged inside of her, she could not but help give an involuntary look of unspoken gratitude.

 "Little girl."

Doc's voice sang out, like something from a kid's twisted nightmare.

Vampire and human both turned back warily, to the creature who's eyes were yet again unblinking, and all black, like the deepest inky darkness of night.

 "She doesn't understand the balance." Doc said lightly. "Dark magicks were meddled with, forbidden powers tapped…oh, it might not have been your fault, but I tell you what little one-" he leaned in close, "You profit from this violation of natural law and the law will punish you in ways you cannot even begin to conceive."

 The slayer had been staring back at him defiantly, used to such vague, ambiguous threats. But there was something in his tone then, something in that steady gaze, in the shadows of that trashy apartment suddenly much deeper and darker, that sent a familiar chill down her spine. Not knowing why, a vision of the first slayer appeared in her head, lurking, unseen in the shadows, silently hunting with a knife of bone, disturbed , restless…

 "Let's go."

Spike's command was wary, steady, the grip on her arm  gentle, guiding, and restraining.

They backed up a couple of steps in silence, before turning to leave. She felt Doc's eyes at her back, and the cool hard glass of the vial in her hand that would end this nightmare.

For her at least.

TBC 

**_Okay, Buffy has a vial of life-giving blood : I have my feedback. Are we getting how important it is to me now?_**_Review!!(but no speculations on what's gonna happen nxt please.)_

_Continued *soon*._


	11. cards on the table

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy, not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet. 

Spoilers : none.

Note: Hey, I'm back….again. I really really really shouldn't do this, but I'm gonna anyway: I'm gonna confess that I have a lot of free-time ahead of me, and fic could be coming more regularly. There, I said it. Just look at me, tempting fate there….Oh well. See my bio for details.

And, psst! Watch Smallville, CSI, or read Discworld? Then check out my profile and read my other fics.

_We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.___

_-E.E.Cummings._

It wasn't till they were back down in the tunnel system that they spoke again. Buffy watched, her game-face gone, but still angry and afraid as Spike paced about slowly at a junction, avoiding her eyes.

 "This isn't fair." She said to the world at large, not knowing what she really expected to accomplish with it.

 "Life rarely bloody is, pet." Spike came back steadily, but his mind was distracted, thinking of what would have to be done…

   After watching him lost in thought for a while, Buffy finally snapped.

 "Could you just stop!"

 Spike paused where he was, and gritted his jaw, before spinning round to approach her with annoyance written clearly on his features.

  "Stop what?"

 The slayer shook her head at him disappointed, bitter, and still so angry. There was so much rage inside her, always threatening to well up at any moment…she wasn't sure she had had a moment's feeling of peace since having this demon inside her. But then…peace had always been hard for her, even before this. It was so rare, so precious…and she wondered how the rest of the world seemed to achieve it more easily…

  "Just…just say something, won't you? Get mad! Throw something! Threaten someone! Tell all the 'bloody' world to go to hell! For God's sake, just be Spike!"

 He stared back at her for a second, before giving that clear bitter snigger he was so good at.

 "Oh that's good. That's just god-dammed priceless that is. All this time, I've been trying so hard…and then this happened…and yet you're asking me to act like good old Spike?!" He was only really speaking to himself, not expecting her to understand. How could she, when even he didn't know what the hell he wanted, from her, from himself. He didn't even know what he wanted to be right now – whether Doc's news was welcome or just expected.

 So of course, she had to have a moment of clarity didn't she? She had to go and ask the question.

 "Didn't you want to be human?" 

 She asked it quietly, earnestness in her voice. She couldn't miss how he tensed momentarily before giving in; sighing, and meeting her eyes with such uncertainty. That same internal battle displayed in his features as when she had gone to his crypt that morning to confront him about being at the college party. 

 When he spoke, it was in a tone that betrayed both his honest vulnerability, and his passionate anger, and fear, at having to admit it to her, and to himself:

"I  wanted _you_."

 A bitter, disbelieving laugh was accompanied with eyes shining with welling tears.

 "You didn't want me when I was a vampire. You thought we were too damned 'different'." Spike missed how her eyes darted away from his then, missed the guilt…He chuckled again harshly. "And then things went and changed with that bloody spell, and  now  I can't tell  whether it's you or just the demon. I mean, there you are, a vampire no less, and you're still screwing with my head. So no, Buffy, I'm not sure if I want to be human or not, but it doesn't seem like I've got much of a friggin' choice either way now, does it?"

  He ran his fingers through his hair quickly in his frustration, while meeting her confused , angry eyes with his own. 

 "All I want now." He said steadily. "Are some answers."

  They stood there, metres apart, each exhausted, and tired of the confusion, the ambiguities that had plagued them for far longer than the past week.  Down there, beneath that cold earth, with nothing but crumbling concrete and brick stretching off into blackness on all sides, they stood, once mortal enemies, now incredulous, angry, grateful,  afraid of how far they had come together. Of how much they had faced, the moments they had shared, the understanding that had been forged, and the helplessness they had both been reduced to, standing here, one with a means of salvation, yet both feeling doomed.

 Sometimes they're little, subtle moments. Sometimes; they're not.

 Her arms wrapped around her, Buffy raised her bowed head, and met his gaze, and she spoke levelly, confidently. The voice of her true self. The voice of the Slayer. 

" I did think we were different. The thought of being with you disgusted me. You were a dead thing."

 She started to take slow steps towards him.

"But …even before this. Before I knew that being like this can feel even more _alive_ than being human… I still wanted to be with you.  Last night… I was coming to see you, Spike."

 His eyes went wide, in disbelief at what he was hearing, of how sure she seemed, how relieved to be saying what she was.

 Speechless, his eyes searched hers as she came closer, still speaking.

"I wanted to tell you…"

 And it was only now that she faltered, that her eyes darted away from his. 

 But a second later she had fought off all her fears and hesitations. Things were different now. It was just her and the person who'd been through this hell with her, by her side the whole way, not allowing her to fall in any way..

  "I wanted to tell you …that I saw something in you…that I'd always denied was within myself."

  She'd said it. Said what one of them had always hoped, and the other always dreaded, she would say. Wishing, fearing that she would admit the truth to herself, and not just pretend she was a normal girl. She was The Slayer. She walked in two worlds, yet only allowed to see herself as part of the human one; the one with school, the mall, the friends, the family.

  God, it felt such a relief to say it; to admit it to the one person who'd always taunted her with it, who'd made her look to the side of herself her other friends never wanted to know about, to admit existed.

 Buffy gave a shaky sigh, as the confession flew forth.

"I see it all … and I know it for sure now. This…the hunt. The anger, the ..the passion; its all there in me. Its what makes me go on, its what gives me the strength, the…appetite for the kill. I understand the monsters because somewhere in me, I carry a part of them: that violence, that darkness, all of it. That's what a Slayer is. And I shunned you because you were actually..."she gave a faint smile at a long-forgotten memory "…because you were actually man enough to admit it."

 Disbelieving, Spike couldn't help but give a flashing grin too.

She shook her head faintly in surrender, remembering the years of denial stretching back and back.

 "You told me what I didn't want to hear. What nobody wanted to hear."

 The way she said that, he knew with absolute certainty, that he mattered. Somebody on this godforsaken planet , valued him. She cared.

 Hesitantly, he  reached out to take hold of her hands. 

Buffy felt his light touch and smiled incredulously to herself that this could be happening...that she could have rendered Spike speechless, and admitted that he'd known her better than she knew herself, all in the space of a minute.

 She entwined her fingers in his own, looking up just in time to see a brief expression of sadness on his face, at how ice-cold her skin was. 

  Nothing could quite tear her heart like the sight of Spike of all people, genuinely pitying her. It somehow made the whole thing more real, more helpless. He cared. He understood.

And she wanted to thank him for that.

 The kiss was soft, and he was surprised at its tenderness, after their earlier encounter. This was Buffy kissing him, not the demon. …

 …but the demon was still there. Just as Buffy was pulling back, it taunted her with a sudden shock to her heightened senses, as she picked up his heartbeat, the sound of the blood in his veins…his neck so close. Later she would have time to wonder again at just how much torture Spike must have gone through being so near to her, so often, hearing and feeling the blood so close and not being able to do anything because of the chip. And to think of how they'd teased him, mocked him…

  But now, when she felt the demon stirring inside her for a moment, and sensed the blood, she drew back fully in shock as she suddenly realised what had to be done.

" Oh god…to go back, you're...you're going to have to be…"

Bitten. Turned. Killed. 

 Then she saw such a terrible, terrible guilt come over his face, and she understood with a sinking clarity his earlier contemplative mood.

 "And you want me to do it."

TBC

_If you read it: then you review it. Go on – click that button. _

_If reviews on ff.net aren't working then..hey, mail me. __J_


	12. Think on it

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy, not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet. 

Spoilers : vague refs to Fool for Love but nothing that would mean much if you hadn't seen it. If you really hadn't then **shame on you.**

Note: massive apologies yet again for the delay – which I said wouldn't happen. Been working (sooooo tedious but brings much-needed cash), lazing around in the sun, making big life-changing decisions, and breaking not one, but two computers within 24 hrs of each other. Even as I write this, I have no clue as to when I'm gonna be able to get a net connection and upload it. Oh well. C'est la vie. Back to the drama. Your patience mean so much to me, people…

_"To think of shadows is a serious thing."_

_-  Hugo, Les Misérables_

 She drew back, her eyes still wide with dismay at the confirmation she read in his face.

 "You want me to kill you." 

 Strange, how even saying it again, the words would only come out in a detached, level sort of way, managing but a tone of mild surprise; all the horror, the shock and the disbelief seemed to bypass her voice, so busy was it filling her mind, her eyes, her throat, her heart.

  He wants me to _kill_ him.

  He wants _me_ to _kill him?!_

"Oh god" she said again, this time shakily, as she tried to move further out of his hold on her.

 But Spike tightened his grip on her arms, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

 "Buffy – Buffy look at me, this has to be done, it's the only-"

 His suddenly faltered as she turned her gaze towards him again.  Her beautiful face was torn with a reproach, a horror, and a pain so indescribable, and so unreadable; but it made him feel like the lowest, cruellest creature in existence.

 "Get the hell away from me." 

There had only been one other time Buffy had put a stake through his heart with words. Then it had been words that echoed a rejection from so long ago..._It would never be you…you're beneath me._  But somehow, in light of the feelings they'd admitted to each other only moments earlier and the bliss of that soft kiss, this was so, so  much worse than the time he'd been lying in the alley, drowning in torn bills and his own tears.

 Now he just stood wide-eyed and with aching regret as she pulled away from him like she'd been burnt. He could still feel the cold of her skin on his palms as he was left holding nothing but air, and then she was walking away quickly into the darkness of the tunnels, his yells for her to stop only making her run faster.

----

Stupid, stupid, so stupid. That was the general line of his thoughts in the minutes following. 'thought's in fact, didn't really convey how the words were being screamed in his head, and cursed aloud as he beat his fists against the wall. Shameless in his regret and his anger, he let any tears roll freely and fiercely. After all, he was alone here back in the dank tunnels were he belonged; alone with his old friend, self-pity.

 She just wanted to be human again, she just wanted the nightmare to end and he had to go and ask _that _of her, something that could be so traumatising, so intimate, so brutal, so exquisite for the demon within her, and so repulsive to the human she was and would soon be again. Above all, it was so goddamned selfish of him. He should have just let her drink up Doc's wonder-drug, while he crawled off somewhere to wait out the last hours of sunlight before finding any low-grade idiot newly-turned vamp to make a deal with.

 But he hadn't. He'd asked her – hell, she'd seen it in his eyes, he hadn't had to ask…and as he finally succumbed to the pain in his fists and pulled his bloody knuckles towards him, a hissing intake of breath the only betrayal of his hurt, he began to remember the reasons why this made sense. Why it was the only way for him to be turned back into the beast he'd been.

~ ~ ~

 Buffy had ran blindly along the meandering labyrinth that lay beneath the streets of Sunnydale, before coming to frustrated and frightened pause in a wide, crumbling section of the old sewer-system. Pacing back and forth for a while, not unlike the way Spike had but a short while ago, she had eventually collapsed onto a dry pile of rubble – part of the town's legacy from multiple earthquake's, both natural and apocalypse-induced. 

  It took her a good while longer than her newly-human ally to let cooler, calmer logic find its way though the mist of emotions raging round her mind. 

 At first there had only been the shock that he could even consider it…that he had walked her out of Doc's, down into the tunnels in silence, and stood before her pacing, all the while thinking this horrible thing. What, had he just been going to ask casually, "hey, do you think he could just do this one little favour for me before you get back to normality?"

 But of course, she had seen in his guilty eyes that he realised the weight of this: the horror of it all. And god, had she felt that horror at that moment. 

  He wanted her to give in to the demon, to tear his neck open and drink…and not just a little this time from a slight flesh-wound (albeit one that was still wrapped in bandages). No, he wanted her to savage him until his heart was barely beating, and till his breaths were nothing but horrible choking gasps. And just as she drank the last bit of life from him – this newly given, oh-so-precious second chance of a life – he expected her to share her own blood with his. In short, Spike wanted her to kill him in a way that had terrified and sickened her from the very moment she'd first heard it described. Her own imagination had of course given way since to memories that made her fear of it all the more acute; her paralysis as she'd felt the Master's breath on her neck, the shock of just how much pain Angel caused her when he'd drank and just wouldn't stop…and of course, the horrible bloodlust of the demon within her when she'd torn the pale skin of Spike's wrist. 

 Was it not enough for the universe to turn her into a demon – it had to make her a monster too?

 Eventually though, the same clarity that comes in the aftermath of a violent  emotional  reaction  came to her again –just like it had all those hours ago lying on her bed…or a week ago sitting on the stairs of an empty house, thinking of Riley's betrayal. 

 She saw how much she was in denial. Of course Spike had thought this through – there wasn't any other way. That 'Doc' character had given them a dire warning, a cure for her, and a heavy dose of the wiggins. But there had been no quick-fix for Spike. To go from vamp to human could, apparently, be accomplished with a highly rare and mysterious magickal intervention, but human-to-demon? There was one sure-fire, time-honoured and almost (though it pained her to think it ) _natural_ way of getting that job done.  This was how it was, and how it had been since humans first appeared on what Giles had explained was once a demon-ridden world. 

 If Spike truly needed to be turned, there was no way to cut corners. He'd have to go the same bloody way he had over a century ago.

  And then, it would have to be her. It wasn't like Spike could just ask any available vamp to turn him – there could be no trust there…Oh, maybe an elder vampire could have been intrigued and agree to siring in return for a meal, but the average vamp round here lately was only recently turned, and but a dim, greedy version of whatever high school student, drunk, or drifter their host had once been. Angel had once explained to her just how little appreciation, or even knowledge, such no-brain vamps had of turning people – of siring. There would be no honour given to an agreement… and Spike would probably end up as just another drained corpse found in an alley someplace. Or worse…tied up in a vamp nest, kept just enough alive to feed a group of demons for days, maybe even weeks…

 That image almost made her wretch – even before the last couple of weeks, she'd have considered that too much of a degrading and painful end for a proud creature like Spike.  He hadn't been a killer for a long time, and now he was human, he might, could, have a soul…That point was a little unclear, but something in her gut told her it was there, growing slowly with every second of humanity – it was that compassion she'd seen in his eyes... And god, even if she was wrong – even if the man she'd been with today was nothing more than the demonic personality he'd always been…she still couldn't wish that on him. Because that demon had for some reason been capable of love, of pity, of sensitivity as well as passion…that demon had sat in patience silence listening to her weep on her back-steps, and he had held her in his arms on the dance-floor and taken away the loneliness.

 Two and a half years ago Spike had sat on the hood of a police-car, lit up a cigarette, and let Buffy see his not so cold or ruthless view of the world. That night Buffy had begun to look at him as a person; it had just taken her those two and a half years to realise it.

  He was a creature with pride too. Even _if_ a vamp could be found who would keep their word, Buffy realised that the thought of being sired by some beer-swigging Senior, who got killed less than a decade ago ; that would be beyond degrading for Spike. Forget the shame of a vampire born of the Master's bloodline at the mercy of a would-be minion…Siring was more than just a transformation – it was a link you couldn't sever. She'd learnt that well enough from the whole Dru/Angel/Darla debacle. Spike would find himself not only trapped once more in the vampire's curse…but bound to the sort of creature he used to command with a single snarled order. Put that on top of the chip, and his future existence would be a more shameful and unbearable one than ever before. 

She had the power to save him from that. 

Buffy let the sense of these thoughts sink in, as she leant against cold, dank walls. It wouldn't take much longer for her to get to some hard truths: Spike was scared, and would only trust her. And she was scared too: of the curiosity that was there, at the back of her mind, just starting to creep in despite her overall dread and revulsion …

Alone with her thoughts, anonymous sounds echoing in the dark, the Slayer shivered.

_TBC_

_(soon, v.soon!)_


	13. Souls and Demons

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy, not mine, but oh how much happier they could be if they were. Just, er, apparently, not in this fic. Yet. 

Spoilers : refs to s.5 "No place like Home."

Notes: thanks for patience guys. Next post sooner hopefully. (also watch out for my Will/Tara drama "hold her closer when she cries" coming soon.)

_"Created you a monster_

_Broken by the rule of love._

_And fate has led you through it,_

_You do what you have to do"_

_– Sarah McLachlan,_

  "Took you long enough." Buffy quipped lightly as she heard the slowly approaching footsteps come to a standstill.

Spike remained where he was, looking down at the small figure sitting curled up with her arms around her knees. God, you'd never think such a little blonde thing was a Slayer. You'd certainly never think her a vampire.

 "Yeah, well, you should be careful pet. For all you knew, I could be some big bad demon creeping up on you."

  That got her to glance up with a wry smile.

 "Well that never bothered before." 

It took a second for him to understand that teasing look in her eye; when he realised she was remembering all his pathetic lovesick stalking, he flashed her a wicked grin.

 "I knew it." He muttered playfully.

 Buffy looked so tired as she dragged herself upright and dusted off her clothes, but something was back now – some need for normality. She was tired of fighting. They both were, and they both knew it.

 " Oh yeah? I don't remember you always being so certain, Mr. 'And you've got stupid hair'?"

 Spike laughed and cringed at the same time.

 "Oh c'mon, give a guy a break. I was a tad screwed up at the time."

 Buffy laughed loudly at that.

 "How exactly would you describe us now then?"

 The laughter was infectious, and they both needed it. They laughed at how totally messed up this whole day had been; how unbelievable and impossible this situation they'd got themselves into was; and above all at how this little accident had had the worst timing in the world, **ever**. Just when they'd been so close to..something. She had been coming to see him, finally, after all his hoping against hope. And then this had happened.

  Eventually though, the laughter has to die down, and they were both left feeling drained; but with  their eyes meeting in the desperate hilarity the bitterness from before was understood to have melted away. God knows they both needed someone right now.

   As the breathless amusement turned to sighs, Spike watched her closely, before speaking.

 "I'm sorry about before."

 The smile disappeared slightly  from Buffy's face, as she sighed, her fingers tugging unconsciously at the overly long sleeves of her top. She looked up to meet his gaze, shaking her head slightly to show her disbelief.

 "It was wrong to expect that of me. You know that right? You know that was…an unthinkable thing to ask of me?"

 Though he kept his gaze, she could see something in his face tighten, could sense his disappointment. She was about to continue after a beat, but found him speaking first:

 "I do know", he was saying in a strange voice…full of a regret, yes, but there was something else, something –

 "I'm sorry Buffy", she heard, in that same sorrowful tone, before the first strike came.

 It was fast and it bowled her right over.

 "Spike!" she yelled, not understanding, not believing, desperate for an explanation. But he was astride her now, and hitting out at her face and body, in blows that were strong, unceasing, but thankfully still not quite so fast as she'd known when fighting him before…

 "Spi-" she tried to yell again, but another deafening blow to the side of her face cut her voice off as she lay, her mind spinning a second, looking up at him, preparing for another hit. There were tears in his eyes. And he was yelling something – he'd been yelling it for the last few punches she realised suddenly.

 " Goddamit fight back! Fight me Slayer!" . Another painful couple of blows to her ribs, harder and faster now as he became desperate. She heard something crack, could taste the blood in her mouth, but still the hits kept coming. Then she suddenly seemed to snap, filled with a raging anger and felt the demon's features take over hers with a loud growling shout.

  He was a strong human, yes, probably even better than Riley's commandos at fighting, even without his vampire strength. But she was not just any vampire. She was a vampire whose demonic strength was added to all the skill and power of the body of a Slayer.

   Spike had never imagined such speed from her, and felt his mind always seconds behind what was actually happening as she grabbed his arm in mid-strike, twisted it in a horrible snapping sound, and as he reared back in agony, she bent her knees up and dealt him such a double-kick to his body as to send him flying back across the tunnel, smashing hard enough into the opposite wall as to make much of the old brickwork crumble down.  She had flipped up onto her feet fast and steadily, not pausing as she strode across to where he was sinking, dazed to the tunnel floor.

  He yelled again as her hands grabbed at his neck and shirt and yanked him up roughly, slamming him back into the wall again. It was only when he managed to focus his eyes on the narrowed amber ones staring up at him with hatred, blood trickling form a wound he'd dealt her above the eye, that his mind seemed to catch up.

 _It worked_ he thought, and relieved, waited for her to drink.

She was ready to. She was seconds away. The demon within her _yearned_ for it, its instinct for the kill overwhelming.

But instinct also needed to see the mortal fear in the prey's eyes. It need to feel victory over this frightened creature before it.  Instead, what she saw there in his face, flickering to the surface, was not fear, but a look of such exquisite gratitude.

  The furrowed brow melted away, the bared fangs disappeared into a mouth wide with shock, and the eyes cleared to ones filled with terrible understanding.

  Spike felt the grip on him loosen and snapped open his eyes. 

 What he saw before him made his heart wrench with pity.

 "You didn't have to…Not like this...I was going to say yes, Spike..oh god, I was going to say _yes_…you didn't have to..."

  Horrified comprehension came to him. 

  "I thought it was the only way…" He whispered back, full of such gut-wrenching guilt as he'd never thought possible. He reached out and pulled her shaking form towards him tightly, ignoring the broken ribs as, holding her head close to his heart, his eyes filled with tears, "I'm sorry love, I thought it was the only way, I'm so sorry…"

  A second later though and Buffy pulled away angrily, beating her fists on his chest.

 "How could you be such an idiot?!" she cried, her voice thick with tears "I could've just killed you, there was no way to be sure I'd turn you, how the hell could you do something so-"

 Oh. 

"Spike?" she whispered, incredulous at what he'd been prepared to do.

 Before her, the man who'd stood by her all day, helping _her _through this ordeal and treating his as almost unimportant, finally let his mask of bravery slide as he let his simple human fear pour though;  and William spoke of his fear of staying in darkness forever: 

 "I didn't know, I didn't care because I don't want to go back to that evil, Buffy – I know, I know I have to, but I don't want to go back again, I can't be a dead thing...I can't be just a dead thing…"

 She thought her heart was going to break with pity as she wrapped her arms around him tight, his head on her shoulders as he wept with the all-too-human tears of the damned. 

 "You won't be. You're more than that, you hear me? You're more than that…you always were…."

 But even she knew to a man about to return to the existence she was living now; those words would hold little comfort. She clutched him closer, her voice reaching him through the tears.

 "You always were…"

TBC 

(! Sorry. I'm cruel. Soon though. V.soon)

R/R 


	14. Slide

[Note: delays again..ah well..welcome to my life.  Would have longer chapter too, but I thought I better update what I've perfected so far after Alshley's threat of dying-of-suspense, which I thought, y'know,  might be nice to avoid. ]

_" Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,_

_Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide_

_Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"_

And – "a blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied " 

_- The Rubaiyat, Omar Khayyam.___

  This wasn't the Spike she knew. He was human now; but the man in her arms felt like a shadow of the creature she knew…the energetic quick-witted rival she'd come to respect and then value as an ally and an equal.  Oh, she pitied him now so much that it hurt. The compassion she felt for him was crippling; she was desperately trying to comfort a condemned man. 

 But for a fleeting second there was a thought that she wouldn't be able to admit to for a long time after this. For a moment she actually longed for him to be as he was before. She wanted him to be all demon again. Not evil – he'd admitted himself so long ago that he wasn't quite of the same cruelly psychotic nature as Angelus and Dru. But he had that twisted edge, living in a world of all-fight and all-passion, and shady ethics. _See, want , take._ It was such a dark but attractive mentality.

  She wanted that link to the darkness back – she wanted him dead again - for her own sanity. But her conscience repulsed so violently at that selfish desire that it had gone in an instant, barely formed as it was, and instead she merely clenched her eyes tightly together, her heart in her throat as they found comfort in each other's embrace.

 The moments of shared sorrow were brought to an abrupt end though, as Spike suddenly pulled himself from her hold, and turned his back to her, averting his tear-stained face. She said nothing, only looking on in pity as she tried to keep herself from thinking of what had to be done.  She turned her head to follow him as he took a few distracted steps away from her. Pain shot up through her neck, but she merely winced and wondered vaguely whether it was the shock of the spell itself, or Spike's humanity that had stopped the chip from working only moments earlier. And if it was the former, if it was just his humanity over-riding it somehow; would that mean afterwards he'd still be able to –

 But she was snapped out of her wonderings by his voice, strained with yelling, crying, and simple fatigue and pain.

 " I don't know what that was." 

 Buffy was still leaning weakly against the wall, watching him with a bruised face, her temples smudged with blood. 

 "You're allowed to be afraid." She said quietly. _It was my worst nightmare after all…I was always terrified of being turned into this. I didn't know…_

 But Spike turned around to stare at her with a look of complete tormented confusion.

 "You don't understand. A demon's what I am…that damned darkness is what we- "_ -Share. Know. Fear. Crave._ They both knew it now. Words weren't needed. Merely a look.  He carried on, torn and dishevelled as he was, his broken arm hanging awkwardly and painfully at his side.

 " But all day I've been feeling like I'm fucking _losing_ myself… the fear's coming so strong and…_human._." His eyes darted away as if searching for an answer. When they turned back to her, still wet with tears and so, so, tired, she nonetheless saw the determination in them

 "Buffy." He said, stepping towards her, "I think…I think we should do this now, while-" she watched as he seemed to cringe and wrestle with something deep within.. another wave of fear, another speck of a soul. He seemed to overcome it angrily, and finished; "- while I still can."

 There was a beat before Buffy nodded, her battered face full of compassion.

 "I understand."

  She took in a shaky breath – only dimly aware that she technically didn't need to – and glanced around quickly. Not down here...it wouldn't be safe of course. But a look from him and she knew he too recognised how degrading it would be to be turned down here…the place into which he would be cursed again. Whatever their relationship had become this past week or so, there was one thing she'd refuse to hide from her friends, from Giles and Xander; how proud a creature Spike was...how much he deserved a great deal of respect. 

 Even without everything he'd done for her when she was in pain, the truth was that right now, she was no better and no worse than he was, had been, and was about to be again. She could still hate the sins, but never again could she look down on the sinner. 

 Buffy straightened up, and wrapped her arms around her.

 "Do you think you can...I mean, you'll deal, right? Till we get out of here?"

 He let out a sigh, nodding, with a poorly-hidden expression of gratitude.

 She kept her voice steady as she asked,

 "Your place?"

 Spike's face actually broke into a suggestive grin.

 "Thought you'd never ask."

 Buffy closed her eyes a second, in a 'I can't believe I didn't see that coming' kind of way. She couldn't but help give a hopeless smile of disbelief.

 Looking back up at his still grinning face, she smiled wider.

 "You just don't stop do you?"

 Spike's grin faded into a soft smile, and there was a beat before he replied simply.

 "Never."

 Their gaze held a moment, and Buffy looked like she was on the verge of saying something. Instead, she resigned herself to giving the faintest of nods, the exact meaning of which was fixed in the moment briefly, before they turned as one and  began to walk along the tunnel, each of them wincing at their aching limbs, and letting their minds empty; the task before them a looming shadow in the distance. 

~ ~ ~ 

They'd been walking for perhaps a half hour like this. Spike proceeding on auto-pilot, his feet guiding him through the maze of tunnels and sewers – and once or twice even through what seemed to be like abandoned basements. From time to time Buffy felt she was in familiar patrolling territory, or that she had a goodsense of where theyw ere and the direction they were taking.

 But she'd never spent so much time trapped down here as she had today.  

   There'd be distant sounds of other Things prowling in the darkness, and even the occasional huddled mass of some poor something either sleeping or dying in a dank corner. But the two of them were ignored. They walked down here now with the other creatures of the night  - they were no threat. 

Today, Buffy was just another demon hiding away from the sun and the human world to which she no longer belonged.  More than once she found herself wondering whether she ever really had. More than once she remembered the awful words, formed roughly by a voice only used to cry of the hunt…

 _No friends. Just the kill. _

 The Slayer didn't walk in that world, that world above their heads, bathed in light or lying open to a star-strewn sky.

 She had argued with the first Slayer in her dreams that night. Told her how wrong she was. In fact, hadn't she said the same to poor Kendra all those years ago? That she couldn't imagine doing what she did without the support of family and friends.

 It was true then. It was still true now – but not to the same extent.

 She'd seen things. Things inside herself, inside Faith, inside the very things she fought and killed – that were alike. That carried a sense of familiarity that had only grown of late…something she recognised from the heart of her being…as a Slayer, not as Buffy Summers.

 She walked onwards, following in the steps of a man in his last moments of life, and recalled a thought that had plagued the back of her mind for a good while now; since the fatigue of existence had slowly but steadily started creeping in, no matter how much she denied it or hid it from those around her. 

 She wondered if there was another reason why the average Slayer didn't live long. Whether it wasn't just the high mortality risk that came with fending off the forces of hell every day of your life.

 She'd found herself wondering whether Slayers weren't _supposed_ to live so long…that what they saw and fought every day could only be dealt with for a short time before the destruction started seeping into your very soul. Or awakening from within…

  That night at the Bronze Spike had told her about the other Slayers, the ones he'd killed. That night had terrified her. And not just because she'd admitted for the first time that what she'd suspected was indeed true; there was no hope to come…only death or something else…this thing she had felt inside of her. 

No, it wasn't just that ; it was because _Spike_ _knew._ He'd known along what would secretly begin to tear at her heart.  He could see into her soul better than anyone else. 

Perhaps Angel had seen it too, even back then…but he'd never said. She'd never asked.

 No, she had demanded it of Spike and he had told her, and as unfeeling as he method may have been, he _had_ asked.

 And that had been the moment she'd been determined. Determined to find some strength to continue…but she'd been falling so, so badly of late. Her mom's illness, and then Riley's leaving had pushed her beyond what she thought she could take.

  But then this had happened. She'd found a new strength within her. Through this ordeal she'd tapped in to the very source of her Slayer's power.

 It scared her. But it was strong.

 It allowed her to understand…to understand how the first slayer had felt, what she'd meant. To understand her world.

 A world so unlike the one above her now, going about its business, immersed in its own numerous worries. No, the First's had been a dark world without shades of grey. 

She had lived on the edge, an outcast, with the demons. She'd walked on the edge of _their _world – clinging to her soul, but immersed in the night nonetheless.

And now, with Spike by her side, Buffy walked on too.

_TBC._

**_PLEASE review_**__


	15. The Beginning

_Because I do not hope to turn again_

_Let these words answer_

_For what is done, not to be done again_

_May the judgement not be too heavy upon us._

_-----_

_Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death_

_Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.___

_-Ash Wednesday, T.S.Eliot_

  The air felt different now, perhaps just a bit less stale; and sure enough as she followed Spike's eyes upwards she saw the outlining of some sort of metal hatch. The hinges were old and rusted, but as she peered with her improved night vision, she realised the whole thing, hinges and all, had been pulled out, and it was all merely balancing lightly in its slot in the stone.  An access regularly used, but made to look impenetrable.

 "The Jefferson crypt. " Spike announced by way of explanation. Her eyes darted back to him, trying not to seem unnerved by the sudden end to the silence that had descended. 

 "Oh, right…your neighbours." She commented lightly, realising they were in the tomb nearest to Spike's excuse for a home.  A second too late she realised the callousness of such a comment at a time like this; as if reminding him that he was doomed to this future. But a shared glance showed that even if the same thought had crossed his mind, Spike wasn't showing it, and certainly wasn't offended.

 _ He should have a real place. Not like the Mansion or a crypt; not a cold, stony place. An apartment or something, like Angel used to have. _Buffy knew all too well how such a rush of thoughts was only accompanying the guilt she was now feeling, bitter and sharp. But still, it might be something to mention; to give him something to aim for after they…well, when this was all over. 

 Spike was watching her closely she noticed. But just as she was about to ask what he was thinking, he seemed to realise it himself.

 "Dammit. Blanket. "

  Sure enough, they'd left Buffy's only protection from the sun further back in the tunnels somewhere.

 "Suppose the sun _is _still up right?" he continued.

 She knew why he could ask such a question; while not technically true, they both felt like they'd been up all night. And after a day of wondering around tunnels they'd kind of lost all perspective time-wise. For all she knew it could be an hour since she last talked to Dawn, or five. 

 She glanced down at her bare wrists.

 "No watch. " she muttered.

  That brought a private smile to Spike's face.

 "What?" Buffy asked, catching sight of it.

But even as he gently reached out to cover her eyes with his hands, she began to realise what she'd forgotten.

 "I didn't ask for the time." His voice came gently teasing, but lowering to something of a nostalgic whisper. "I asked if the sun was still up."

 Sure enough, drowning in darkness and thinking past the visual, she felt it in her bones. An uncomfortable, abstract feeling of unease. A warning in her blood, like the faintest of thoughts, just out of her mental grasp even concentrating as much as she did now.

 It was instinct.

 "Yes." She whispered back, filled with awe. "The sun's up."

 She heard Spike's faint sigh as he took his hands away. After a moment of coloured dots before her eyes, Buffy saw him looking at her with a smile.

 "Pretty nifty party trick, right?"

 Trying to cling to this change in mood, she nodded and forced herself to smile back, gently teasing.

 "Oh, definitely – like Spider-sense for vamps. Now that's gotta be top of the list of things I'm gonna miss."

 He raised an eyebrow, as he started –awkwardly with his broken fore-arm -  to take off his duster to use an as alternative to the blanket.

 "I'll assume you're talkin' about all the speed, strength and fast healing as opposed to the severe sunbur-"

 _A memory flashed before his mind's eye of old heavy drapes, desperately pulled at by a slender hand, the searing pain as the sun streamed in across his game-face; how he'd lunged out of the rays with a yell, and pulled the terrified young brunette he'd captured away from the window roughly, hand over her mouth before she could scream,  before venting  his fury on her brutally while Dru watched giggling with dark glee…_

 "Spike?"

  Buffy was reaching out a hand to his shoulder nervously, at his suddenly still figure and face frozen in shock.

 Her voice seemed to snap him out of it though, but the eyes that looked up at her wide in crippling horror.

 "Spike, what is it?"

  But he shakily raised a hand, and after a dazed second finished shrugging off his coat and handed it to her.

 "'S'nothing. Just….memories."

 And with that he seemed to shake off whatever seemed to have held him locked in shock like a vice. Just in time to ward of the welling wave of guilt, that was creeping out from his memory. _Don't think. Don't remember. _

 He turned towards the metal rungs built into the stone beneath the opening above, refusing to meet her eyes.

 "You first pet – then you can pull up the wounded man here. "

She could hear it in his voice though. His tone always became distant, losing its usual intensity, when something was bothering him though. She hadn't realised she'd known that. 

 She saw his eyes dart nervously, still not wanting to meet hers but anxiously wanting her to do something.

 She pressed a hand to his shoulder as she moved past him , and reached out to grip the rungs. As she started to climb he passed up his coat for her to hold above her head. Once she pushed aside the light metal hatch, it was unlikely she'd be in direct sunlight, but still – now was _so_ the time to get dusted.

 It should have been an amusing thought, but it left a chill in her unbeating heart.

~ ~ ~

  There was a short distance to cover between this and Spike's crypt. Buffy never got a chance to see anything but the grass between her feet as she ran, bent almost double with his coat over her. Still she felt the freshness of being out in the open air again, albeit for a few brief rushing moments. She felt Spike's arm across her back, guiding her in a straight path. 

  But just as she took a last dash in through the entrance of the crypt into the shade inside, she felt the pressure of his touch vanish, and his presence fall behind.

  Feeling the cool of the shade around her as she stood in the open doorway she whisked around, letting the duster drop. She looked out at the view before her from the shadows.

 What she saw was something beautiful.

 He was standing still on the grassy verge, gazing up into the vast expanse of the sky.

 His duster gone, his pale muscled arms, one still unnaturally bruised and twisted, were bare to the sun for the first time in 120 years. 

 Buffy took a small step forward, watching entranced at this moment so painfully exquisite it felt like something sacred. Watching as he turned slightly, completely basking in the sun's rays shining gold , low over the top of the crypt. She had a perfect view of his expression as he closed his tear-filled eyes in near-ecstasy to feel the warm breezes of the day under a beautiful clear blue sky.

A demon's first and last _true_ taste of humanity.

Only once before in her life had she been overcome with so much compassion. Once before had she ever had such scared eyes of a condemned man open and look at her pleadingly.

She'd never know what could have allowed him to leave that moment – to take those steps out of the day for the last time without a single look back.

 She'd never know how the sight of her small, beaten form, shying away from the light, tore his heart.  How his love of her had reached a point of utter selflessness.

 Living wasn't breathing in the sweet air of the afternoon. Living was loving her. 

And for that sort of life, he didn't have to be human.

 As he walked in slowly, she retreated further back, eyes cast down as she heard him shut the door. 

 They didn't need to say anything. What could you say? No words could be of comfort after that. 

Buffy merely kept her eyes lowered and allowed him to approach her with footsteps shuffling on the stone floor, the sound far too clear in the dusky cool of the crypt.

  She felt his presence in front of her, but still she couldn't bring herself to raise her weary head, and let him see her tear-filled eyes.

  His voice was broken, but quiet.

 "How are you doing love?

She could laugh at the absurdity of a question like that after what she'd just witnessed.

But any laughter could so easily turn to sobs.

Instead this was a still and silent moment between the two of them. It carried the weight of the end of a line. Honesty was the only option. Pretence, sentiment...it had no place now. Not when they'd come so far.

 " I'm tired. I'm so goddamn tired. "

 Now she looked up. The dark circles of fatigue under her eyes confirmed her words. Her hair hung lank and tousled over her face.

 Spike's good hand reached up slowly and absent-mindedly brushed the golden strands out of her eyes. His eyes were tracing her face as she continued.

 "I want to get past today. Together."

 Spike looked off then over her shoulder, sighing.

 "I'm going to ask you something. And I want you to think about it and answer me straight… because if there's one thing we don't need right now love, its any more complications."

 He looked down into her eyes, and, encouraging, she took his hand in his. He glanced down at that, and his face seemed even sadder as he looked back up.

"When you're human again. When you can go back home to mom and little sis; when you're hanging out with the rest of them having a grand old time; when you look your Watcher in the eye…are you going to try and forget about today?  When you're not all alone, in the dark, looking for someone to understand your pain - your world – are you going to take back what you've said to me today? If you're happy…could you stop yourself hiding from this again?"

  There was a beat, with him watching her closely with a gritted jaw and a searching gaze.

  Her traced circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, while she swallowed hard.

 "Honestly?"

A barely perceptible nod.

 Her eyes were wide and helpless.

"I don't know. But…I think, maybe. Maybe I can. Because now, I  - I think somehow, nothing can be the same as it was…"

  Real fear came to her voice then, as she whispered her secret confession.

 "I don't think I can bury this part of myself anymore."

 And then Spike was sighing with relief, leaning in to rest his forehead on her own, their eyes closed in gratitude at each other's presence.

A moment later she felt his hand clench hers tightly, and a sharp intake of breath. His next words were spoken in a quiet, intense rush.

"Buffy – don't wait. If my – if a soul is really coming back to me, then the demon in you – it could take you too. You could lose control, mess this up or worse – you'll not want to go back at all."

As he broke away, she couldn't read his face to see if the last thing might not be just what he'd always wanted. How much of that last wish was because of his newfound conscience, and how much, if any, was his true self, would forever remain a mystery. 

 He had walked over to the central tomb, on which lay his coat, picked up from the doorway on his way in, and placed there whilst her eyes had been averted.  She walked over to join him as, rooting around in the inner folds of the material, he eventually pulled out the vial of glowing liquid.

 He held it up to her, and said strongly.

 "You take this straight away. As soon as it's done, you understand? Don't wait."

 Nodding profusely, gritting her jaw through her pity, Buffy reached up and eased it out of his grasp, sliding it into the back of her belt. 

Spike nodded distractedly as she did so. 

And then it was time.

He leant back, perched on the edge of the stone tomb, alone with a Slayer trying hard to appear calm and sure of herself. As Buffy stepped up close, he tilted his face to catch her gaze.

"You know how this works right? When there's barely any life left…that's when-"

"-you drink." She nodded, wincing painfully at his words, wishing he wouldn't talk about it, wishing he could not make her so nervous.  It was strangely discomforting not to have her body react to her inner anxiety, not to have her heart pounding in her chest.  But she took strength from it; from a vampire's natural state being a steady, prowling calm. That's what she had to be now. A vampire. They could still feel love – she knew that for herself now. And even a twisted kind of compassion – more of an empathy perhaps. But there was also a far surer sense of being in the moment; living in the present. Doing what had to be done now.

 When she opened her eyes she'd banished her fear. She was moved to see it momentarily in his own eyes.

 "I will bring you back." she reassured him.

  Spike looked surprised, but gave a faint-hearted smile.

 "Oh I trust you love. I do."

 Buffy watched him steadily, reaching out to take his hand once more.

"Then what?" 

He looked up at her with an almost sheepish look.

"I just remember how much this hurts…."

She gave a small smile back.

 Then she stepped in further towards him, her palms resting lightly on his bare arms, one of which he reached round to hold the small of her back. And for a moment they stood there, their eyes closed, near cheek to cheek in a strange deadly embrace.

 He spoke softly, his mouth by her ear. "I love you."

She whispered back, her breath on his neck sending a chill down his spine;

"I know."

 Neither of them moved as her features transformed into those of the demons. He felt her grip on his arms tighten, his eyes clenched tight, he took a breath of her hair, and breathed a sigh of contentment, a moment of peace, before Buffy gave in to the need within and their worlds came crashing down as her fangs sank pierced his skin, and her mouth filled with his blood in an instant.

 In the shadows of the unlit crypt, she drank deep and hard.

 It was intoxicating. 

 For both of them.

 Never would either of them forget how they felt over the following minutes, as she drank, and drank, by instinct at first, and then with a hunger, her fingers trailing up to his neck, her nails digging in to his skin as she allowed herself to live in the action, the sensations, the pure dark exhilaration of the moment.. 

 After an eternity, she sank her fangs into her own lips.

...later, on the edges of his dreams Spike could just about recall how in a haze of semi-consciousness, weakened to the point of collapsing back onto the tomb, her body draped over him,  he had tasted her kiss;  long, deep, and sweetened with the bitter taste of her own blood. 

 ~ ~ ~ 

  Then there was a silent stillness once more. One small figure stood gazing down with amber eyes at a corpse laid out on a tomb. 

 She wondered what it was like for him…where he was now. Wondering in some dreamscape, or lost in a dark abyss. Who was 'he', even? Had she just condemned one creature to death so that another – a killer, who'd stolen this body , but who she knew and valued far better – could live? 

  No…wherever the poor soul who'd be born into this body was, it was where it'd resided for the past 120 years. It should be allowed to rest there.  Somewhere inside that body before her was the man she knew and…needed. 

  He would have to wake and face the world again; trapped in an existence that she knew now to be more alive than she'd ever imagined; but it came with so many sacrifices. Perhaps, after today, that would be too high a price for him. And if she couldn't find the courage to be honest with herself any more, he could be alone again. Maybe one day she'd come by, and find merely a pile of ashes…the last remnants of a creature that had had his last taste of the sun his life had been without. 

  It sank in then – how it would be if Spike truly did die. She would feel like a person had gone, not just a _thing_ like she had with so many other vampires and demons.  The thought of that arrogant smirk, or that trademark tilt of the head, more often than not accompanied by an unnerving perceptive look…or that soft, steady tone she'd only rarely before today; a tone that spoke of something serious, something that cared…The thought of that all being lost brought a lump to her throat and a sickening feeling to her gut. 

  She reached out and took his pale lifeless hand, seeing again those familiar blue veins and fingernails with chipped black nail polish, and a small smile came to her face at the familiarity of it all. It was Spike. Spike who'd been as much of as a constant in her years of being a Slayer as Angel had.  Who'd been there through this today...who'd been there that night she'd cried on the steps of the backyard. Feeling helpless and scared for her mother, she'd poured out her heart to him as an equal. She'd let herself need him when she couldn't bring herself to need Giles, her friends - or Riley.  

  Both of them had been at the mercy of the Fates this last year. Both of them had changed in ways they'd never have imagined when first facing each other as mortal enemies all those years ago; a committed Slayer and just the latest Big Bad. Now allies in a darker, desperate world. This was a world where a video-fest after a hard night's patrolling didn't chase the horrors away, or where humans were just another perk in a life of brutal pleasures. 

 Looking around she just absorbed the strangeness of not breathing again, of the strangeness of sitting in silence here in Spike's crypt. This place, where he was banished to spend his days. This place he thought was a vamp's paradise simply for the fact .that it wasn't some hole beneath the ground.  Looking around at the TV, the armchair, the bed, the magazines, the booze...the obvious lack of cursed relics, devil-worshipping idols, charms or anything else demonic. It was as if he was trying to be human. 

  But of course, there was still that edge. Those hints of a life less ordinary. A short-sword was stood up against the wall in the corner. The small fridge she knew held blood-packs as well as drink. 

 And as for her? She still had to stop herself from creeping out in the night to hunt. Waiting for test results, making meals for her and Dawn, or listening to Anya and Xander banter on, she would increasingly allow herself to wonder…what would happen if she just gave up now? What if she just turned and walked out the door, and let the Slayer within run wild?

 Oh yes, they lived in the shades of grey now.

Stroking the back of his lifeless hand – a hand that had struck her many timed in the past – she promised herself something. She swore she'd never look down on this existence again. 

No matter what anyone said.

 She slowly crouched down and picked up his heavy leather jacket from the floor. Absent-mindedly brushing the dust of it, she draped it over him. Eyes never wavering as she took in his torn and bloody neck she looked at his face, more peaceful than she'd ever seen it. Of course, she'd never watched him sleep before. Once she'd caught him dozing at Giles', but awkwardly tied up and half-starved for blood, her presence had stirred him from his light sleep in an instant, and he'd awoken grumbling and scowling. And she'd gloated.

 Now though she merely bent over him and kissed him lightly on the lips, her game-face evaporating as she did.

"I have to go now", came her steady murmur. " My mom…she's coming home tonight, from the hospital. I have to be with my family or else  - I'd stay. I would. I 'd be here when you wake up. Like you were for me…"

 Not a breath past his lips in answer, and she tried so hard not to think of him waking, disoriented and lifeless alone here. Instead she knew she had to go home – before anyone came looking around here for her.

 And she had to turn back. While she still could. She knew she couldn't even start to contemplate staying as she was…or else she'd never drink the cure. The demon make her give in to her enchantment with this life or…and friends and families' horror aside – she'd be incurring the wrath of The Powers, for meddling in the very order of the universe. 

  With that thought driving her she reached for the vial in her belt, pulled out the seal, and pausing for a second to feel _alive_ with the raw ancient strength of a vampire in the wake of quenching its bloodlust, she closed her eyes and downed the glowing liquid in one go.

  She was dimly aware of the sound of the glass shattering on the stone floor, as she sank to her knees, every inch of her body searing with pain before her chest tightened and felt like it was going to explode. After what seemed like an eternity of her body feeling like it was being crushed, she felt the hard thud of a heartbeat, and gasping, took her first true breath.

  She was alive.

~ ~ ~ 

  It took many minutes of the blood pumping round her veins again, and tentatively trying to get her aching limbs to regain their strength, before she could think about standing. Then, a very few more before she could bring herself to touch his face and feel it colder beneath her warm touch.

 Her eyes were shining with tears but she blinked them back, not allowing one to fall.

 "Song's over." She whispered. "But only for today."

She walked out into a sunlit world to see her mom, sister and friends safe at home…to try and fit into a world she'd almost lost forever. A world where she'd forever more have to hide who she was from those she loved.

All but one that is.

All but the one, cursed man she'd left sleeping alone in the dark… 

Finis… 

…_for now._

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Thankyou so much everyone for all your support and reviews for this piece over the last few months. Lord knows I left you with some cliffhangers, but having your reactions to each chapter to guide and encourage me was a wonderful experience for me.

_ And if by chance you've not grown sick of this fic yet, you might be pleased to know the sequel is already in the works. I've got more challenges and developments ahead for these two. And hopefully a chance at finding happiness._

_JustTwisted xxx _

_- and hey – don't forget to review!_


End file.
